


between red lights

by another_promise



Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Bullying, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, OT5 Friendship, Recreational Drug Use, References to Depression, Suicide Attempt, Underage Drinking, the drugs and drinking is not that frequent but I like to give a warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-08
Updated: 2017-02-05
Packaged: 2018-08-13 14:01:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7979302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/another_promise/pseuds/another_promise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an attempt to take his life, Zayn is forced by his parents to move from the big city to a town so small that high school football games and bonfire parties rule the social scene. He doesn't expect to befriend a single soul, doesn't expect to spend his weekends squished into the back of an old pickup truck, and certainly doesn't expect to fall in love -- but then again, he doesn't expect to meet anyone like Liam Payne, either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A few things. Firstly, general warnings for mentions of a suicide attempt and self-harm, as well as depression and bullying. There are no graphic scenes at any point in the story, but those things may bother some readers. Secondly, I've been working on this story for over a year now. It is a WIP, meaning I don't have the entire thing finished, just as a warning. As of right now, I have 42k words written, which puts us at around halfway finished (maybe a little past halfway). I also don't have a set updating schedule, but I intend to post chapters every 2 to 3 weeks. I have every intention of finishing this story, but I'll be doing so at my own pace, so if it doesn't get updated for a little while, then I apologize in advance! Finally, as a disclaimer: this is a story about teenagers who do much cooler shit than I ever did.

They said the fresh air might be good for him.

It isn’t. It just makes him sneak more cigarettes in the middle of the night, long after his parents have gone to bed. He misses the city air, the smog and fried food and perfume on a passing stranger. Out here the air is thick with this smell that Zayn can’t place, something woodsy and heavy in his nose. There are too many strangers here, but when they pass it’s with their eyes wide and curious.

_Nosy_ , he thinks. _Curious_ is his mom’s word. She’s too optimistic, and when he says as much she purses her lips, biting back a reprimand.

One of the many perks of trying to kill yourself: your parents are afraid to scold you.

Zayn lies back in his twin bed, staring up at the peeling paint on the ceiling. This house is a piece of shit. His dad said it was a _fixer upper_ , that they could work on it as a family, _wouldn’t that be fun?_

He slips a lit cigarette between his lips and takes a long drag, inhaling until the smoke stings his lungs. It’s just past midnight, his last night of freedom before school starts, and if he were back home, Zayn would be _doing_ something. He’d sneak out the fire escape and start the night off by sharing a joint with Louis on the roof of his apartment building before going out and wandering the city. 

But he’s not at home. He’s in the tiny attic bedroom of his grandmother’s old house in the middle of nowhere, and he can hear crickets and frogs and god knows what else creaking and chirping noisily through the cracked window, louder than the sirens and the car horns that he’s used to. He already hates this place after only one week of living here, he already itches for his home back in the city — but that’s not happening, not since his dad got his new job out here, a good three hours away from civilization. Zayn had begged to stay — he could live with Louis, he’d even pay rent, he could get a job — but he was shot down almost immediately.

One of the many downsides of trying to kill yourself: your parents are afraid to let you out of their sight.

So he chain-smokes until he falls into an uneasy sleep, tossing and turning and dreaming of polluted air.

—

Liam wakes up two hours before he has to leave for school. It’s the first day of senior year, and he’s restless with a healthy mix of something like excitement and nerves, so he decides to go for a run. The house is quiet when he throws on a t-shirt and a pair of running shorts, both of his parents still asleep, so the first face he sees today is Loki’s.

“Good morning,” he greets him softly, crouching down to scratch behind the dog’s ears. Loki licks his cheek a few times, tail wagging excitedly, and Liam lets him out into the backyard before heading out the front door.

The main street of his neighborhood is deserted and the sun is only just rising, barely visible behind a thick layer of gray clouds. He’s got his earbuds in, his feet are hitting the pavement to a heavy beat, and he mutters the lyrics under his breath as he goes.

There’s something calming about running. The rhythm, he thinks. The predictability. His t-shirt is drenched with sweat, his lungs are burning, but he keeps running. _Just a little further,_ he thinks. He doesn’t know how long he’s been running or how far he’s gone, but the sun is fully risen when he decides to stop. He’s panting, turning around to head back home and get ready for school when he feels that burning sensation like someone’s watching him. His eyes flick up to the dingy house in front of him and he sees a boy sticking his head out of the attic window, his lips wrapped around a cigarette. The boy is sort of beautiful, his features sharp despite the baby fat that lingers on his face. He’s got wide, sleepy eyes and his dark hair is sticking up in all directions. Liam watches him for a moment, sees something artful in the way he inhales the cigarette smoke, then catches himself staring. He gives a small wave to make up for it and the boy simply nods to acknowledge him. 

_Malik,_ he thinks. That was the name he’d heard from his mother earlier this week, when she had just gotten back from bringing them a casserole to welcome them into the neighborhood. Liam vaguely remembers that an older woman by the same name used to live there, but she died years ago, and for some reason her family had never sold the house. 

Liam can feel the boy’s eyes on him as he walks away, the house shrinking behind him. 

—

Zayn hates riding the bus.

First of all, he has to leave earlier than he would if he were driving. And sure, he might’ve been awake since four o’clock in the morning, but that doesn't mean he wants to be on a bus by seven. His mom is pounding on his bedroom door, telling him to _hurry up, or he’s going to miss the bus_ , and Zayn is pissed off that he has to get on the stupid bus in the first place, and he knows he’ll be the only senior who doesn’t just drive to school.

Still, he stands outside, a block away from his shitty house, and he tries his best to ignore the small groups of kids around him. They’re chatting away, complaining about classes already, wondering what’s going to be served for lunch that day. And Zayn just sighs and shoves his hands into his pockets and listens. He’s not planning on making any new friends here, because he’s only going to have to stick around in this middle-of-fucking-nowhere town for one year before he goes off to college. There’s no point in becoming a social butterfly — or worse, a social pariah — if it isn’t going to last.

The bus comes, and Zayn finds a seat near the front, zoning out the entire ride until they get to school. Once they arrive, he thinks it looks a little familiar. He hasn’t been there, of course, but it’s got that same generic-brand cleaner and textbook smell that every school does. The lockers are neat and orderly, and the sound of shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor fills the air. It might as well be his old high school — except, of course, he isn’t getting his ass kicked.

—

The first day of school goes by in a blur, and Liam is finding himself looking at everything with a strange sense of nostalgia — the locker he used to struggle to open, the classroom he had ninth grade algebra in, the dingy plastic trays that his school lunch is on. Niall and Harry insist that today is cause for celebration: their last first day of school. But Liam can’t help but feel a bit sad. They’ve both been preparing to leave this town behind, to get on with their lives, to forget about barn parties and cornfields and empty nights with nothing to do except getting up to no good.

But Liam doesn’t plan to leave, couldn’t leave even if he wanted to (but really, he swears he doesn’t). His family’s too poor to afford to send him to college, and it’s not like he has the grades for it anyway. He’ll get a job with his dad at the factory, maybe take classes at the community college, get an associate’s degree, and figure it out from there.

So while he won’t necessarily miss high school, he’s acutely aware of how quickly everything around him will change while he remains stagnant.

“ _Liam_ ,” Niall calls out, waving his hand in front of Liam’s face and snapping a few times for good measure.

“What?” Liam is jolted from his train of thought. They’re standing at the stairs outside of the school’s front entrance, backpacks slung over their shoulders as the last few kids race past them to catch the buses before they leave.

“We were talking about the party on Friday,” Harry chimes in, leaning against the brick wall. “Did Sophia text you about it?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah. Yeah, she did. I planned on coming,” Liam responds. 

Niall claps him on the back. “Yes! Three for three, baby. I was worried you wouldn’t want to come, you know, since she made you cry and all.”

Liam scoffs. “She didn’t make me cry. It was a mutual breakup, Niall.” Both Harry and Niall raise their eyebrows at that, and Liam decides to ignore them.

“Whatever you say, dude,” Niall mutters. The last bus is leaving the parking lot now, and Harry is pushing himself off the wall.

“I’ve got work in like…twenty minutes,” he says with a sigh, and the three boys start walking toward their cars. “Text me while I’m there. Monday afternoons are so _dull._ ” Harry drags out the last word and runs a hand through his messy curls before going to unlock his car and climb inside.

“I’ve got to head out, too,” Niall says. “Johnson is already piling on too much _tarea_.” He uses an exaggerated accent, and Liam lets out a groan when he remembers just how much homework their Spanish teacher has assigned.

“Better get started with it, then,” Liam agrees, although he fully intends to distract himself for at least an hour before cracking open his textbook. “See you tomorrow.”

Niall nods and walks over to his car while Liam makes his way toward his beat up pickup truck. He’s already started the engine when he realizes that he left his Spanish textbook in his locker. With a small groan, he climbs out of the truck and dashes back into the building. It only takes a moment for him to run inside, reach his locker, and grab the book, and he’s almost out of the building when he hears a very defeated noise.

“ _Ughhhhhh._ ” 

He looks up and notices the Malik boy from this morning sitting down on the floor of the hallway, his back resting against the white cinderblock wall. A cell phone is pressed up against his cheek and he’s grimacing. “Come on, come on, pick up…” After a second, he gives up and puts the phone down on the floor next to him. “Ugh.”

Liam stands there for a second, and the boy doesn’t notice him until he says, “Are you, uh…all right?”

The other boy’s head snaps up. “Uh. No.”

Liam licks his lips. “Oh. Well…anything I can do to help?” he asks, because it would be wrong to just leave it at that, right?

Malik sighs and he looks down at the floor like he’s embarrassed of what he’s about to say. “I missed the bus.” 

Liam can’t help but let out a little laugh, which earns him a glare. “Sorry, sorry. I wasn’t laughing at you, it’s just…I mean, I can give you a ride home, yeah? You live in my neighborhood. Not that I’m like…creeping on you, or anything, I just saw you this morning when I was on a run.” Malik’s glare quickly melts into a look of relief.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “I was trying to see if my mom could take her lunch break and come pick me up, but she wasn’t answering the phone…” 

“No problem. I’m Liam, by the way.”

“I’m Zayn.” 

Liam holds his hand out, offering to help Zayn up, and the other boy takes it somewhat hesitantly. “Nice to meet you, Zayn.” He beams at him, and Zayn smiles back timidly.

—

The ride is quiet.

Zayn doesn’t really know what to say to Liam, feels like they have nothing in common, thinks that maybe the other boy is sort of cute — okay, really cute, if he’s being honest — but remembers the last crush he had and decides to ignore whatever flutter he felt in his heart when Liam offered to drive him home.

It’s just a ride. 

And Liam probably isn’t even gay.

Liam seems to grow tired of the awkward silence, reaching out to turn on the radio. An especially terrible country song comes on, and for a second Zayn wonders if this is his fate — riding in old pickup trucks with cute, almost definitely straight boys, listening to country music, of all things — when Liam changes the dial to a pop station.

A Justin Timberlake song is playing, and Zayn hates that Liam is singing along under his breath. He doesn’t want to find him endearing. He doesn’t even want to talk to him, really.

“So, how do you like it here so far?” Liam asks.

“Uh…it’s okay, I guess. Um…a bit different, you know? It’s really…small.”

“Sort of shitty, too, if we’re being honest,” Liam replies.

That takes Zayn off guard. After a beat, he asks, “So you don’t like it?”

“Eh, I don’t really have much to complain about. I mean, my friends are here, you know?”

“Mmhm,” Zayn hums in agreement. “But like, isn’t it sort of boring? Like, you have friends, but what do you guys do for fun?”

Liam shrugs. “You know, typical high school stuff. I mean, we go to movies sometimes…and there’s a drive-in, too, that’s pretty fun. There aren't many of those anymore. But it’s pretty cool. Sometimes they do cheap double features, cheaper than a single movie at the theater the next town over…my friend Niall likes to sneak in beer and snacks, even though it’s technically not allowed. There’s a mall, but it’s sort of small, not very impressive. Football is really big; that’s where basically everyone goes whenever there’s a game. And every now and then there’s a party.”

Zayn just nods. “Cool.” Another football-crazy school. That’s not a good sign, really.

“Actually, there’s a party on Friday, if you want to come. I know it’s, like…hard to make new friends at a new school. You probably feel a bit out of the loop? So, I mean, like…if you want to come…you can tag along with me and my friends. They’re sort of insane, but…maybe you’ll have a good time? No pressure, I mean. If you don’t want to come, that’s fine—”

“Yeah, sure,” Zayn cuts him off, noticing that the other boy’s ears have turned pink. “That sounds fun.” He’s not sure that it does, actually, but he feels bad saying no.

“Great! Awesome.” They’re pulling up to Zayn’s house now, and Liam turns to smile at him as he parks the car. “I’ll pick you up first, since you live closest. Um…I’ll let you know when I figure out the time and all that, since I’m sure I’ll see you around school.”

Zayn nods. “Okay.”

“And, um, if you miss the bus again, I can always give you a ride.” Liam gives him this big smile, and his whole face lights up. 

Zayn decides that he hates Liam. 

“Okay. Cool. Thanks for the ride. See you around.” After flashing a tight smile, he struggles to get out of the truck, trips a bit, and tries to play it off as he walks up to the door. It turns out that Liam is one of those people that waits until you actually go inside to pull off. Zayn stands in the doorway, turns back to look at the truck as Liam finally starts to move it, and sees that the other boy is waving as he pulls off.

Cute, check. Friendly, check. Sort of awkward, a bit too earnest, check and check.

Yeah. He definitely hates this Liam kid.


	2. Chapter 2

Liam finds himself wondering if he pissed Zayn off.

Because when he passes him in the hallway the next day in school, he tries to wave at him, but Zayn’s eyes pass right over him like he isn’t even there. _He probably just didn’t see me,_ Liam decides. 

Or maybe Liam’s being a bit too eager. Zayn seems like the quiet type, and being in a new school is already sort of intimidating. So maybe he just wants to fly under the radar for his senior year, then ditch this town. It only makes sense, he thinks.

Liam decides to back off for the rest of the week. If Zayn wants to befriend him, he can make the first move. He’s starting to think that Zayn wants nothing to do with him, but then Friday rolls around.

Liam is sitting in the cafeteria and eating his bagged lunch as he waits for Harry and Niall to finish buying their food. It’s taco day, and the line looks long, so he expects it to be a while and decides to work on some of the math homework that’s due in his last class.

“Is this seat taken?”

He looks up at the voice and sees that Zayn is sitting across from him at the table. “Uh, no. No, not at all. It’s yours for the taking,” he rambles. Zayn gives him a timid smile, licks his chapped lips, and nods.

“So what’s the plan for tonight?”

“Tonight?”

Zayn tilts his head and looks at him for a second, his eyebrows furrowed. “Um. The, uh…the party? You said—I mean, if you don’t want me to go anymore—”

“No! No, it’s…I’m sorry, that was stupid of me, I forgot that was today,” Liam says. He can feel his cheeks turning red as he speaks, but he tries to play it cool. “Yeah, um…I was probably going to swing by your place around 10, if that’s okay.”

Zayn looks relieved. “Okay. Cool.” He starts to get up from his seat, and Liam isn’t sure why it bothers him, but he can’t keep himself from blurting something out to try and stop him.

“There’s room at this table, you know. I mean, Niall and Harry are probably almost out of line, but like, that seat will still be empty. I mean, like…if you don’t want to leave.”

The other boy thinks about it for a moment and shrugs, pulling out his own homework and working on it quietly. They stay like that for a while, until Niall and Harry come over with their trays piled high with tacos. 

“Hiii,” Harry says, somehow drawing the word into multiple syllables as he looks over at Zayn. “My name’s Harry. Aren’t you in the same math class as me and Liam?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so. I’m Zayn.”

“I know,” Harry says cheerily. “Not that many new faces around here, and your name isn’t exactly common.”

Niall chimes in, “Well, you’re in my art class, aren’t you? I liked that painting you were working on today, it was pretty cool. Mine looked like shit.” He pauses, takes a bite of his food, and then continues with his mouth full. “I’m Niall, by the way.”

Zayn smiles at both of them, looking a little nervous. “Nice to meet you both, then.” Liam notices that whenever Zayn smiles, there’s something tight and restrictive in his face, like he’s afraid to let his guard down completely.

There’s an awkward silence, and Liam takes it upon himself to fill it. “Zayn here is coming to the party with us tonight. He lives a few blocks away from me. That means the two of you have got to show him a good time. And it also means no puking.”

Harry and Niall both look excited about the prospect of Zayn tagging along, which is a relief to Liam.

“Oh, that sounds like fun! We’ll be on our best behavior,” Harry promises. “And I’m supposed to be the designated driver, right? So it looks like Niall is really the only one you need to worry about.”

“I don’t puke, Styles. When was the last time you saw me puke?” Niall objects.

“Like…last month?” Liam answers, taking a bite of his sandwich. He looks over at Zayn, who immediately averts his gaze. The rest of lunch goes something like that, with Zayn sitting across from Liam silently. He occasionally laughs at a joke or gives a one word answer to whatever question is thrown his way, but Liam can tell he isn’t completely comfortable sitting there. He can’t help but feel guilty — is Zayn just going to the party because he would feel bad saying no? And Liam didn’t give him much of a choice when it came to sitting at the table, did he?

Finally, the lunch bell rings and the boys get up to go their separate ways. Liam notices that Zayn takes a long time to pack his things up and lingers behind while Harry and Niall head out of the cafeteria almost immediately. Once Zayn finally starts to walk out of the cafeteria, Liam falls into step next to him, matching his pace. “You don’t have to come to the party tonight, Zayn,” he says softly. “Like, I understand if you don’t want to. And I understand if you’re not really interested in being friends with me, or with anyone else here.”

Zayn gives him a smile that looks genuine. There’s still something tense in his eyes, but he seems more relaxed than he did a few minutes ago. “I want to come, Liam,” he says simply.

Liam’s heart skips a beat at that. He hasn’t seen Zayn smile like that yet, and it looks nice on him — his features seem brighter, friendlier. They split off in two separate directions to go to their classes, but Zayn looks over his shoulder at Liam and gives him another smile and a wave.

—

Zayn mentally kicks himself for not backing out of this whole party bullshit when he had the chance.

He was thinking of maybe flaking out at the last minute, but then Liam had to go and tell him that he didn’t _have_ to come to the party, that he didn’t _have_ to be his friend, but how was Zayn supposed to say no to Liam when he looked at him with those puppy dog eyes? The bastard probably didn’t even realize he was doing it, but he’d sounded so guilty and regretful that Zayn had no choice but to go along with the original plan.

 _Disgusting_ , he thinks. He’s been here, what, a week? And already he’s got a brand new unattainable crush. Sighing, he continues to fuss with his hair in the mirror, trying to make his quiff stand up perfectly. Waliyha has already barged into his room twice — the first time to threaten to tell their parents that he was going to a party, and the second to make fun of how much effort he’s putting into his appearance.

He glances at his cell phone. It’s already 9:45, and his parents are probably just about to head up to bed. With a sigh, he gives up on his hair, letting it remain just a little messy on top of his head before turning away from the mirror and opening the window. The night air is cool enough that he grabs a jacket, then goes to shimmy out of the window, closing it behind him.

He’s standing on the slanted roof, eyeing the tree that grows beside his window. It’s not terribly far, but he has to stretch his arms to grasp the nearest branch so that he can climb down. Having grown up in the city, he’s not very familiar with the act of tree climbing, and it takes longer than he expected; his shirt snags on a few branches, but he makes it to the ground in one piece, just as Liam’s rumbling truck is pulling up to the house.

Zayn jogs over and slides into the front of the truck once the vehicle comes to a full stop. “Hey,” he says.

“Hi,” Liam greets him. He smells good, like maybe he’s applied some sort of woodsy cologne just before coming to pick up Zayn, and the close quarters of the car seem to amplify the smell.

“Do you mind if I smoke in here?” Zayn asks, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket.

“Nah, just open the window,” Liam replies. They’re listening to something old and slow, and Zayn doesn’t recognize it, but it sounds like one of the Motown records his parents listen to sometimes.

He lights his cigarette and they drive in silence except for the radio, with Zayn trying to distract himself from the soft-looking curls on Liam’s head. Eventually they get to Niall’s house, then Harry’s, and the two of them are riding in the bed of the truck, hooping and hollering every now and then at their own private jokes.

“So, what kind of party is this? Like, what should I expect?” Zayn asks.

“It’ll be kind of laid back. This girl Sophia is throwing it since her parents are away this weekend. They’ve got a ton of land, so there will probably be a bonfire. But it’s not like, you know, a rave or anything,” Liam explains. “Did you party much at your old school?”

Zayn shakes his head. “Not really, no. I mean, like…my friend Louis and I would hang out, sneak a couple beers or a joint every now and then, you know, but we didn’t really, uh…get invited to the big parties. I mean…one time I got in good with this jock, so he invited me to one of the parties, but…it wasn’t much fun, so I didn’t exactly want to go back.”

He cringes as he thinks back to that night. _Got in good with this jock_ is possibly the understatement of the century, he realizes, but explaining how he got caught giving head to one of the most popular guys in school doesn’t really sound appealing right now.

“Well, maybe you’ll have a better time tonight,” Liam says, glancing over at Zayn with this big grin on his face. Honestly, what the fuck is he even grinning for? What is there to be so happy about? 

“Shouldn’t be too hard, the bar is pretty low,” Zayn replies, trying to keep his tone light. He’s nervous, doesn’t want to make a fool out of himself at yet another party, and decides he’ll keep to himself most of the night, maybe stick by Liam’s side and let him do all the talking. But he also doesn’t want to be clingy, doesn’t want to get on the other boy’s nerves, so he reasons that if Liam seems like he wants to wander off, he can just find a nice place to sit and watch the party. 

_It’ll be easy_ , he tells himself. _Just don’t do anything stupid._

They’re on a dirt road now, and they’re pulling up to a big house. A bunch of kids from school — some of whom Zayn recognizes already — are all out front, where there’s a huge bonfire. Liam turns and parks the car in the long driveway, pulling his keys out and stepping out of the car. 

“I’ll take those,” Harry says as he climbs out of the bed of the truck. Liam tosses the keys to him and Niall walks up to Zayn, slinging an arm over his shoulder.

“Couple things you wanna keep in mind: one, the punch was made with the intention of getting everyone as trashed as possible. Drink it with caution. Two, Sophia dumped the shit out of our poor Liam last month, so if he starts drinking the punch, steer him away from her. Three, I’ve heard at least three people mention that you’re cute already, so, like…have fun, man.”

“Right,” Zayn says with a nod as they approach the party.

—

Liam decides that it’s his responsibility to ensure that Zayn has a good time tonight, so he stays by his side most of the time, even once Harry and Niall wander off. Zayn is quiet as they’re in line getting their first drinks, and Liam jokes, “You’re going to have to match me drink for drink.” 

Zayn gets this mischievous glint in his eye and Liam wonders if maybe that particular joke was a mistake. “You’re on,” Zayn replies. He walks up to the keg and gets a beer for Liam, then another for himself. A country song comes on the stereo, and Zayn makes a face before taking a big gulp of beer. 

It turns out that challenging Zayn to match him drink for drink is a bad idea, because despite the other boy’s smaller frame, he seems to have a higher tolerance than Liam does. Or maybe he just holds his liquor a bit better. Regardless, Liam finds himself pleasantly drunk, his head swimming, and soon enough the two of them are sitting in the damp grass, watching as Niall tries to demonstrate a dance move to a crowd that includes Harry and Sophia. Sophia seems bored by the whole thing, and Liam finds himself silently resenting her for it, but he decides to ignore her. 

He turns instead to Zayn. The light from the fire is dancing across his face, the shadows lengthening his already long eyelashes. He wonders what the other boy is thinking, why he’s so quiet, what he’s hiding. Zayn turns his head, and he’s looking at Liam now, their eyes meeting, and Liam can feel himself blushing. He shouldn’t have been staring, but he’s drunk and he can’t help it. Zayn is nice to look at, he reasons. His face is symmetry and angles and big, expressive eyes that always seemed laced with sadness. Liam blinks slowly, but Zayn doesn’t break eye contact, and for a second, Liam thinks that he’s about to kiss him, but that’s got to be the alcohol talking.

“I was going to flake out tonight,” Zayn admits, his voice so low that Liam can barely hear it over the music and noise of the party.

“Why?” Liam asks. Zayn licks his lips, and Liam’s eyes trace the movement.

Zayn pauses before answering. “I don’t want to make friends here.”

This sets something off in Liam. “What, you think you’re too good for us? Just because you’re from some big city?” he asks, unable to keep the indignant tone out of his voice. He knows that this isn’t a very exciting place to live, that Zayn probably has friends from home that he misses, but it still feels like a personal attack.

“No — no, that’s not it at all. I just…what’s the point, you know? I’m just going to leave next year. There’s no point in getting close with anyone.” He says it almost like he’s warning Liam, like he’s telling him that befriending him is a bad choice.

“I mean, that’s up to you, I guess.” Liam sniffs and wonders if Zayn hates him, if he finds him too overbearing in his attempts at friendliness.

They’re both silent until Zayn leans back so that he’s lying down in the grass. “I like you, though.” 

For some reason, that makes Liam perk up. He glances down at Zayn as he stretches his arms out, one of them landing only inches away from Liam. The faint light from the bonfire shows a couple of tattoos on Zayn’s arm as the sleeves of his jacket ride up. Liam stares down at them, can’t make them out in the darkness, and notices something that looks very much unlike a tattoo. He’s drunk enough not to ask for permission when he reaches out for Zayn’s arm, twisting it to get a better view.

“What are you—?” Zayn starts, snatching his arm away. He sits up, and he’s got this scared shitless look on his face.

“Was that a scar? Were those…were those scars?” Liam asks, drunk and stupid and sympathetic. He realizes he knows nothing about this boy, and when he looks at him he sees something behind the fear and suspicion in his eyes — something weary and sad, and Liam can’t stop himself from prying. “Zayn, did you…?”

Zayn leaps to his feet and glares at Liam. “It’s none of your fucking business,” he spits, storming off.

Liam sits in the wet grass and watches him walk away.

—

Zayn is freaking out a little bit. Just when he starts making friends (against his will, of course), he’s exposed as another stereotypical teenage wrist cutter. Awesome.

He needs to clear his mind, so he whips out a cigarette and finds a spot far away from Liam where he can smoke in peace. He can see the party in front of him; people are getting drunker and dancing or making out or laughing too loudly. He wants to go home, he needs to get away from the noise and the fire and the people.

“Zack, is it?”

He looks up to see a blonde girl standing next to him. “Zayn,” he corrects with a weary sigh.

“Hm. I like that. So, Zayn, mind letting me borrow a cigarette? I’m all out. Oh, um, I’m Perrie, by the way.” She’s got a sweet smile and big, pretty eyes, and Zayn just nods and hands her a cigarette. She slips it into her lipsticked mouth, so Zayn flicks his lighter and ignites the end of the cigarette, watching as she takes a long drag from it. “You’re in my history class,” she says after blowing the smoke up into the air.

“Oh. Nice.” Zayn can’t bring himself to pretend to care right now, and he doesn’t fail to notice the way she’s smiling at him. 

“Mhm.”

They smoke in silence. Once Zayn finishes his cigarette, she looks over at him. She’s got this look in her eyes that Zayn recognizes; she glances at his lips, scoots a little closer to him. “Did you come here with anybody?”

Zayn shakes his head. “No one important.” He thinks that maybe kissing a pretty girl will make him forget about Liam and the too-fresh scars on his wrists, so he leans in, uses his thumb to brush away a strand of blonde hair, and presses his lips against hers. He might be gay, but that doesn’t mean he can’t kiss a girl convincingly. It’s a bit drunk and sloppy, and he doesn’t like the taste of lipstick on his tongue, but it’s a good distraction. He rests his hand on the small of her back, pulls her closer to deepen the kiss, and ignores the sounds of the party around him.

—

 _I shouldn’t have said anything_ , Liam thinks to himself. He finishes another drink, letting the effects of the alcohol wash over him. The loud, cheesy music that’s playing almost sounds good right now, so he knows he must be drunk. He gets to his feet, still guilty about making Zayn run off earlier. He should find him, he realizes; they brought him to this stupid party in the first place, and he’ll need a ride home eventually. 

It doesn't take long to find Zayn, and Liam can’t say he expected to find him like this: wrapped around Perrie Edwards, licking into her mouth a few feet from the bonfire. Liam tears his eyes away from the sight and turns in the opposite direction, trying to ignore the bitter taste in his mouth. It shouldn’t bother him as much as it does, and he chalks it up to a mixture of alcohol and concern for Zayn. His limbs suddenly feel heavy and cumbersome, his thoughts are fuzzy, and he wants to sit down, he wants to get far away from the noise and the crowd and—

His body collides with something soft. “ _Excuse me_ ,” a voice cries out.

And there she is. 

Sophia stands in front of him, beautiful as ever, lips curled up into that snarl she wears so well. Liam chews on his bottom lip before realizing that this is the point where he should apologize. “Oh, uh…sorry.”

Her expression softens when she sees that it’s him, eyes avoiding his. “It’s, um…it’s okay. Um, are you, uh…having fun?”

The awkwardness of the interaction makes Liam’s stomach churn. He shouldn’t be talking to her. He shouldn’t have even come to this party. She obviously invited him out of pity, and there’s no reason why she’d want to hang out with the sorry loser whose heart she’d broken.

“Yeah,” he says simply. She flashes a smile at him — it seems as though she’s regained her composure after the initial shock of running into him — and reaches out to squeeze his shoulder.

“Glad you came. See you around, then.”

And she’s walking away for the second time, and just like last time, Liam is frozen in place.

 _I’ll always be stuck,_ he realizes. _Everyone else will move on, and I’ll just be standing here, watching them walk away._

“Liam!” 

His head snaps up and he sees Harry walking over. The other boy slings an arm around his shoulder. “What do you say we head out, man? Niall’s about ten seconds away from serious injury, and an ER trip would be a bit of a downer, don’t you think?”

Liam glances over to where Harry is looking and sees that Niall is engaged in a lively conversation with another boy from their class. He overhears a snippet of their conversation — _keg stands are easy, it’s all about technique, let me show you! —_ and gives a nod. “Yeah. You should grab him. I’ll, uh…I’ll go find Zayn.”

Finding Zayn, it turns out, is pretty easy. He’s sitting down in front of the bonfire, away from everyone else, staring at his cell phone intently. Perrie is nowhere to be found, and Liam feels relief wash over him as he walks up to Zayn.

“Ready to leave?” he asks. His eyes travel to the pink lipstick stain on Zayn’s neck. He bites back a bitter comment.

“Yeah, okay.”

—

Somehow, Zayn and Liam get stuck in the bed of the truck this time.

Harry, of course, is the designated driver, so naturally he gets the driver’s seat. Zayn thinks he wouldn’t have minded riding up front with him, hearing the other boy talk enough to keep him from having to participate in the conversation. But that seat goes to Niall, who calls out “ _Shotgun!”_ before they’ve even reached the car.

The cool night air whips across their faces as Harry drives them down the dirt road, each bump jostling them into a position more uncomfortable than the last. It turns out that Harry isn’t a great driver, either; he has a tendency to slam on the brakes, and maybe he’s getting distracted by whatever conversation he’s having with Niall, because he almost runs off the road a few times.

“Don’t worry, he’s not drunk,” Liam reassures him as they swerve around a fallen tree branch. “He always drives like this.”

Zayn feels like he might be sick, but he nods and tries to pretend it’s okay. If he opens his mouth to speak, Liam is going to want an explanation for earlier. The ride smooths out as they reach the paved road, and Zayn’s tight grip on the side of the truck loosens.

“I’m sorry,” Liam mutters. He’s giving Zayn that sad look again, and even in the dark, Zayn falls victim to his puppy dog eyes.

“S’okay,” he says softly.

“You don’t…you don’t have to talk about it, you know?” 

Zayn nods, bites his lip, and stares down at his hands. He lifts the sleeve of his jacket and traces over one of the scars. Everything that happened to him last year feels like it’s coming back to him — a pressure builds in his chest that makes him feel like he’s about to burst. “I tried to kill myself,” he admits quietly. And he’s never said that out loud. He’s never told anyone the reason why, he’s never admitted what really happened. His parents know one side of the story, Louis knows another — but no one has ever heard it from Zayn, not even the therapist he was forced to see.

And after saying that little thing, after acknowledging what happened that night, he feels the knot in his stomach begin to unfurl, and maybe the alcohol has given him loose lips, but he finds himself speaking again. “I tried to kill myself — there were a lot of reasons, I think, but the reason I finally tried was because I fell in love with someone who didn’t love me back. Does that sound stupid?”

“No,” Liam says almost immediately.

There’s a pause before Zayn speaks again.

“I was in love with a boy named Dylan, and I thought he felt the same way. He invited me to this…this stupid house party, and I went. He took me into the bathroom and he kissed me, and…we did some other stuff, too. And someone walked in, and when the other boys from the football team called him names, he started blaming me, started…spreading these rumors that I tricked him, or lured him in, or…something ridiculous like that. He and his teammates made me into their new punching bag, and I…” Zayn trails off, giving a small shrug. “I still loved him, though. I still thought…I thought it was my fault…I thought…maybe it’d be easier for everyone if I just…”

He lets out a deep breath and waits for Liam’s reaction, waits to be called a freak — or worse, to be coddled, consoled like a child. 

“That…that sucks, Zayn. That really fucking sucks,” Liam says, and he says it so _earnestly_ that Zayn can’t help but let out a dry laugh.

“Yeah. It does.”

And Liam does something Zayn doesn’t expect:

He reaches out, pats him on the back, and whispers, “I’m glad you’re still here.”

Zayn almost believes him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everybody! So excited to see a positive reaction to this story so far :) Thank you to everyone who has left kudos or comments! Since I got a lot of writing done over the last few days, I wanted to go ahead and update a little early since I won't be able to post anything for the rest of the month. But on the bright side that means two chapters today!

Liam wakes up the next morning and there are two other bodies crowded into his twin sized bed. Harry is on top of him, curled up on his chest like some sort of overgrown cat, while Niall is burrowing into his side and snoring in his ear. Liam manages to slide out of the bed, and he’s tiptoeing out of the room to take a piss when his foot collides with something soft.

He hears a quiet groan and looks down to see Zayn huddled beneath a pile of blankets, his head resting on his balled up jacket like it’s a pillow. “Sorry,” he whispers. Zayn replies with a soft hum, his eyes remaining closed. He looks especially young right now, his features gentle and relaxed instead of sharp and closed off like they usually are.

Liam realizes he’s being weird — sitting here and staring at his sleeping friend — so he hurries out of the room, a faint blush rising on his cheeks. He goes through a quick version of his morning routine, using the toilet and brushing his teeth, running a hand through his messy curls, and heads back to his bedroom. Niall and Harry are now clinging to one another, and Zayn —

Zayn is bolting to his feet. “Shit,” he mutters, shrugging into his jacket. “Fuck. Shit. God fucking damn it…” He takes out his cell phone, presumably to check the time (just past eight o’clock), and mutters a few more swear words. “She called me, fuck.”

“Colorful vocabulary you’ve got there,” Liam comments, his voice low so as not to wake his friends.

Zayn looks up at him as he fumbles with the laces of his boots. “Sorry. Just, uh…I didn’t come home last night. My parents didn’t even know I was going out. I was too drunk to say anything last night, didn’t really think about it. Anyway, uh…thanks for letting me stay here, I’ll see you at school on Monday—”

“I’ll give you a ride,” Liam offers. It’s the least he can do, so he slips into a pair of jeans from last night and pulls a wrinkled t-shirt over his head. “Any chance they’ll believe you just left the house really early this morning?”

Zayn bites his lip as the two of them walk downstairs and step outside. “Dunno. My mom’s a bit of an early riser, but I’m certainly not…”

They hop into the truck and it gives a loud rumble as the engine starts. The sky is a bright, cloudless blue, the grass a startling shade of emerald green — the last vestiges of summer, floating away on a cool breeze, so Liam rolls his window down to let the air in. It only takes a few minutes to drive over to Zayn’s house, where they park in the driveway.

“I might be able to sneak in through the window and pretend I was home the whole time,” Zayn says desperately. He looks over at Liam. “Um, any chance you’ve, uh…forgotten what I said last night?”

Liam presses his lips together into a thin line. “I can try to forget, if you’d like. I can pretend you never said anything about it.”

He’s surprised to see the other boy shaking his head. “Nah, it’s not…well, thanks, I mean. Thank you for not…treating me any different, I guess. And for listening, you know? I, uh…I never told anyone the whole story, so…”

“Yeah. No problem,” Liam says simply. His grip on the steering wheel tightens as he thinks back to last night — the scars, the conversation in the back of the truck, Perrie, Sophia…

He glances at Zayn’s neck as subtly as possible. There’s still a smudged pink lipstick stain there, barely noticeable unless you’re looking for it. The two of them sit in silence for a moment before Zayn says, “Anyway. Bye, Liam.”

“See you later.”

Zayn slides out of the truck and is starting to walk toward the house when the front door opens and a woman who must be Mrs. Malik comes walking out, hands on her hips. “ _Zayn—_ ”

“Er, hi Mom.”

“ _‘Hi Mom’?_ Why weren’t you answering my calls? Do you have any idea —? I woke up this morning, went up to check and see if you wanted breakfast, and—” Worry is clear in her voice and face, she looks like she’s pleading with her son, and like she’s tired of this, like she’s dealt with it a thousand times before.

“I’m sorry, look, I just…” he trails off, clearly at a loss for words, and gives a shrug.

Liam hops out of the truck and goes running up to Zayn and his mother. “Uh, hi, Mrs. Malik? My name’s Liam Payne, I go to school with Zayn. I picked him up pretty early this morning to get breakfast with me and some of the other guys.”

—

Zayn stares at Liam for a second. _Is this kid serious?_ he thinks.

His mother turns to look at Liam with her eyebrows raised. “You got _my_ son awake before eight o’clock on a Saturday?”

Zayn expects Liam to shy away at that, but he keeps it together surprisingly well. He’s smiling, and those brown eyes of his are wide and honest looking despite the fact that he’s lying through his teeth. He’s the perfect boy to bring home to mom, Zayn realizes; there’s something about Liam that you want to trust.

“Yes, ma’am.” 

_Ma’am?_ Zayn thinks Liam might be laying it on a little thick, but then—

“How on earth did you manage that?” his mother asks. Trisha Malik is looking at Liam Payne and _smiling,_ humor in her eyes.

“Offered to buy him as many pancakes as he wanted. Worked like a charm,” Liam replies with a chuckle. “Though you nearly bit my head off when I first showed up this morning, didn’t you, Zayn?”

It’s his turn to speak, so Zayn clears his throat, runs a hand through his hair awkwardly. If his mother weren’t grinning at Liam like the sun shines out of his ass, she would definitely notice that Zayn’s lying. “Yeah, dude. Sorry about that, I’m not much of a morning person.”

Liam and Trisha both laugh at that — seriously, what the _fuck_? — and Liam speaks again. “Anyway, I’ve got to get going, promised my mom I’d mow the lawn today. Nice to meet you, Mrs. Malik. See you on Monday, Zayn!” And he walks back to his ugly truck, completely unscathed, as if he didn’t just diffuse a bomb without breaking a sweat.

“Uh. Bye. Thanks for the—the pancakes!” Zayn calls after him.

His mother turns to him as they walk into the house. “He seems like a nice boy, Zayn,” she gushes. “I’m so glad you’re making friends here, sunshine.” She cups his cheek before giving it a little pinch. “I’m just so happy that you seem to be getting better.”

“Me too,” he says softly. “I’m gonna go back to bed, yeah?”

As he walks toward the stairs, he catches his mom muttering under her breath, something that sounds like _what a nice boy,_ and that’s when he realizes that Liam Payne is a dangerous creature.

He makes his way to his attic bedroom, flops down on the bed, and stares up at the ceiling until he falls asleep.

—

Liam’s out for another run on Monday morning, and as he reaches Zayn’s block, he finds himself searching for the other boy. He slows to a stop in front of the Malik house, looking up at the attic window, and sure enough he sees Zayn.

He’s shirtless, leaning out the window with a cigarette between his teeth. Liam removes his earbuds before calling up to him.

“Morning, Malik! D’you want a ride to school?”

Zayn puffs away for a moment before shrugging his bare shoulders. “Yeah, sure,” he says coolly. 

“I’ll be over in like…half an hour,” Liam responds. Zayn just nods, extinguishes his cigarette, and flicks it out onto the lawn before retreating from the window.

Liam runs back to his house, showers and hurries through his morning routine. He races out the front door, grabbing a piece of toast and holding it between his teeth as he juggles his backpack and car keys. When he pulls up to Zayn’s house, he sees him sitting on the porch holding two travel mugs. Zayn rises to his feet as soon as the truck pulls up to the house and climbs into the car like he’s done it a thousand times before.

“Morning,” Zayn says, placing one of the mugs into the cupholder. “My mom said I should make you a cup. Dunno how you take yours so I just poured a tiny bit of milk in and added some sugar.”

“Oh, uh—thanks, you didn’t have to—”

“And thanks for saving my ass on Saturday.” Zayn gives a tight smile as Liam pulls out of his driveway and they make their way toward the school.

“No problem. Parents like me, so I use my powers for good,” he jokes with a nervous laugh. The awkwardness of knowing Zayn’s secret still hangs in the air, so he clears his throat and speaks again. “So like…you said you’re not much of a morning person. But whenever I go on a run in the morning, I see you standing in your window…?”

“I’m really bad at the whole sleeping thing lately. Doesn’t mean it’s any easier for me to get out of bed when I finally do fall asleep.” Zayn takes a sip of coffee. “So what’s your excuse then? Just a morning person?”

Liam shrugs. “A little bit, yeah. But I like running a lot. I’m on the soccer team, running keeps me in shape until the season starts.”

“Bit of a jock then?” Zayn teases. Liam can almost hear the smirk in his voice; they pull to a stop at a red light and he turns his head to confirm his suspicion.

“No need to be so damn smug about it,” he says, taking a tone of feigned indignation. Zayn turns to look at him, gives a wide grin, and shakes his head. He doesn’t say anything, but his tongue touches the roof of his mouth as he laughs.

“Guess not,” he finally says.

They look at each other for a quiet moment, eyes meeting, and Liam feels himself grinning back at Zayn, mirroring his expression. He feels his eyes squinting up as he lets out a small laugh that keeps growing, and for the first time he feels like maybe Zayn actually likes him a little bit, like maybe they’re becoming friends, like maybe his efforts to make the other boy feel included aren’t in vain. He thinks, _Maybe I’m not forcing him to be my friend, maybe he just needs someone to reach out._

And he’s not even sure what he’s laughing at anymore, but there’s a warmth in his chest at the sound of their mixed laughter, at the crinkle of Zayn’s eyes. He thinks of those scars on Zayn’s arms, of the secret he inadvertently discovered, and wonders how the boy who made those cuts is the same one that seems so light and happy in this moment.

A loud honk from the car behind them shakes Liam out of his thoughts. “Light’s green, bro,” Zayn says, laughter still in his voice, and Liam feels himself flushing in embarrassment as he hits the gas pedal and they make their way to school.

He’s overthinking things. 

—

There was a moment in the car this morning when Zayn thought he could’ve kissed Liam. It was brief, fleeting, wishful — but he forgets about it, pushes it back in his mind as he climbs out of the truck and the two of them go in separate directions for their first classes. Zayn forgets to ask about a ride home, is too busy _not_ thinking about the split second when Liam had turned to look at him from the driver’s seat. 

He’s too busy _not_ thinking about the way his breath had caught in his throat when Liam was grinning at him, looking at him like he was the most important thing in the world for that moment. That’s why Liam’s so good with parents, Zayn realizes: when he speaks to you, he gives you his full attention, those wide brown eyes looking only at you. Liam feels safe, like the kind of person you can tell a secret to, even when that secret is too shameful to tell your best friend. 

But he’s _not_ thinking about it.

Zayn makes his way through his classes but finds himself doodling in the margins of his notes. His mind is elsewhere, and when it’s finally time for lunch, he races to the cafeteria, pushing past his classmates to get to the table where Liam and his friends sit. Harry and Niall are nowhere to be found, but Liam sits at the table by himself with an apple in his hand, nibbling on it as he works on an assignment.

Biting his lip, Zayn eyes the table, then glances over to an empty table in the far corner of the cafeteria. It’s more isolated, much better for seeing without being seen, and it’s where he’s been sitting most days, always careful to bring homework or a book with him. He’s caught between flying under the radar and speaking to Liam again, and as much as he worries that he’s going to make a fool out of himself in front of Liam, as much as he doesn’t want to make too many friends here, he can’t help but want to continue where they left off this morning.

“Zayn!”

His head snaps back to Liam, and the other boy is waving him over. With a sigh of relief, Zayn shuffles to Liam’s table, glad that the decision has already been made. After all, he can’t ignore Liam now, it’d be _rude_. “Hey,” he says awkwardly, clutching his own bagged lunch tightly and taking a seat. “How’ve classes been so far?”

“They’re all right, I guess. Looking forward to that math quiz today, of course,” Liam replies, taking a bite of his apple. 

Zayn just lets out a long, slightly exaggerated sigh at that. “Back home, the teachers wait until at least the third week of school to start giving out quizzes. This place is brutal, man.” The two of them eat in silence for a moment before Harry and Niall are sitting down at the table, and both of them are grinning.

“ _Zaaaayn._ ” Niall’s raising his eyebrows suggestively, and Harry elbows him (and apologizes for it) before leaning in to whisper:

“We know your little secret from the other night.”

Zayn feels his stomach drop, turns his head sharply to look at Liam, whose eyes are wide as he shrugs. His mouth feels dry, he can’t make any words come out. The whole school must know by now — did Liam tell? There’s a ringing in his ears, he feels sick to his stomach, and he suddenly feels very foolish for thinking he could trust Liam, for thinking that whatever tenuous bond they’d formed over the past week meant that he wouldn’t go spilling his secret—

“Everyone’s talking about you and Perrie,” Harry says slowly, picking up on Zayn’s panic. “But we don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

Relief washes over him for a second before embarrassment sinks in. “Oh.” He feels himself blushing. “Um, it’s…it’s fine, I guess. Word travels fast, doesn’t it?” But he already knew that; isn’t that how all of this started? With him doing something stupid at a party and being seen by just the wrong people? _At least this time her friends probably won’t beat me up,_ he thinks.

Liam swoops in to save the day. “Last year, I made a complete fool of myself at one of Sophia’s parties. I got _way_ too drunk and started taking my clothes off — it’s a long story, it started with a stupid dare, of course — and for a whole week at school, no one would stop teasing me about my Batman underwear. But by the next week, everyone found something else to talk about, so I mean…you won’t have to deal with this for long. Anyway, have either of you studied for this stupid quiz?” he asks, turning to Niall and Harry.

Zayn lets out a breath that he didn’t realize he was holding and looks at Liam with a silent _thank you_.

The two of them settle into a routine. Liam picks Zayn up in the mornings, then they go through their days and wave when they pass each other in the halls. Liam has this smile on his face every time he sees Zayn, like maybe seeing him is a highlight in his day, and Zayn has to remind himself to breathe every time.

They eat lunch together every day — along with Harry and Niall, of course. They go their separate ways, and in math class, despite their assigned seats, Zayn’s always itching to twist around and glance at the boy he’s falling for. Luckily, he has just enough self control to keep from doing that.

  
And at the end of the day, Liam catches up with him somewhere in the crowded hallways, somehow always spotting Zayn despite the swarm of people surrounding him, and they ride home together, and sometimes the rides are quiet, and sometimes there’s music playing, and sometimes they’re both singing along. And other times they’re talking, laughing, and when Liam picks Zayn up in the morning he waves to his mother and sisters.

They’ve got their own _things_ now, too. There’s a Drake song that comes on sometimes, whenever Liam puts on the one rap station they get in this town. The first time it came on, Zayn found himself singing along under his breath — he didn’t even notice at first, not until Liam started singing too, and now sometimes Liam turns it up when it comes on the radio.

It's almost too good to be true, because Zayn feels like he’s found a friend in this over eager, wide-eyed boy.

In fact, it _is_ too good to be true, because he can feel something stirring in his stomach when their eyes meet, and he starts craving the smell of his soap in the mornings the same way he craves a cup of coffee. He catches himself eyeing pink lips and soft curls, catches himself thinking of kissing him, and he’s scared shitless of what that means.

—

“So I’m putting together a study group for _King Lear_. Are you in, Zayn?” Liam asks between bites of his turkey sandwich. “Because I don’t understand anything about this play, and you know how hard Reinhardt’s tests can be.”

Zayn hesitates for a moment before answering, and Liam doesn’t miss the way he clears his throat, like he’s stalling before he can come up with an answer. “Uh. I mean, I guess?”

“Don’t sound so eager, Z,” Liam responds with a laugh. “But really, you don’t have to come if you don’t want to—”

“N-no, it’s cool, I want to. It’ll be fun. I already read this play at my old school, so like…”

“Since Malik’s an expert, I don’t feel bad for not being able to come,” Niall chimes in, joining them at the cafeteria table. “It’s lasagna night. Surely you understand.”

Liam rolls his eyes. “Seriously? You’re prioritizing a layered pasta dish over your English grade? And you can’t even stop by after dinner?”

“I don’t need to study English. First of all, I already speak English. Second of all, you already know how good my mom’s lasagna is. Also, I’ve got way too much reading for history anyway…I sort of, er, procrastinated on it, you could say. Sorry.” He shrugs and starts to eat his lunch, and Liam just rolls his eyes.

“What’re you sorry for?” Harry asks as he sits down at the table.

“He’s an irresponsible student and refuses to come to my study group. So, what do you say, Harry? _King Lear_ study party at my place tonight?” He gives Harry a hopeful look. “Come on, _please?_ You always do well on Reinhardt’s tests, right?”

“Liam, you know I would, but I picked up a closing shift at the bakery tonight. I’ll tell you what, I can swing by after work and give you some of my reading notes if that’ll help?” Harry sounds genuinely disappointed that he can’t come, as though studying for a test would’ve been the perfect way to spend his Thursday night.

Liam lets out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, okay, thanks. Guess it’s just me and Zayn, then.” He flashes a smile at Zayn, who starts squirming in his seat uncomfortably. His eyes dart around nervously, like he doesn’t want to look at Liam too long.

“Uh, okay. Yeah. Cool,” he says, his tone even.

And it’s times like these when Liam wonders if maybe Zayn secretly hates him.

—

First of all, Zayn hates Harry Styles. Second of all, he hates Niall Horan.

And third of all, he really, _really_ wishes he could hate Liam Payne.

The truck feels too small, too closed in, and Zayn doesn’t even ask for permission before he rolls down the window. The air outside holds a slight chill, but he lights a cigarette and nearly sticks his head out like a dog on a hot day. Liam is quiet, and Zayn’s thoughts feel louder by comparison.

_It’s just going to be us._

Plenty of opportunities to say the wrong thing, to do the wrong thing, to slip up and make it too obvious that he’s got a huge gay crush on a straight boy who drives a pickup truck. _Fantastic._

They get to Liam’s house and there aren’t any other cars in the driveway. “Mom won’t get home from work for another hour or two, and my dad usually gets back a little later,” Liam explains. Zayn just nods and follows behind him quietly, hands shoved into his pockets, eyes to the ground. They step into the house, and the first thing Zayn is greeted with is a very excitable dog.

Liam crouches down to pet him, kisses him on top of his head, then moves aside so that he can greet Zayn. “His name is Loki,” he says, watching as Zayn kneels down to pet him. Thankfully, Loki seems to take to strangers pretty easily, and he’s rolling over so that Zayn can rub his belly after only a few moments of affection. Liam seems pleased by this, grinning when he says, “He’s a bit spoiled.” 

“I like him,” Zayn replies. He’d always wanted a dog, almost says as much, but the words fail to come out of his mouth.

“He seems to like you, too,” Liam says. “I’m going to let him out into the backyard for a bit.” 

Zayn follows Liam into the kitchen, where a sliding glass door leads into the Paynes’ fenced yard. Loki eagerly darts outside when the door is opened for him, then Liam turns to read a sticky note on the refrigerator.

_Please put the chicken in the oven at 365 degrees._

_\- Mom_

“Do you eat chicken?” Liam asks as he pulls a casserole dish from the fridge. “I mean, I figure everyone does, but I realized, I mean…I never asked if you were vegetarian or something…”

It takes a moment for Zayn to find his voice, and he realizes that he hasn’t said a word since lunch — the nerves over this whole ordeal kept him quiet. “Um, yeah. Yeah, it’s good.”

“You can stay for dinner if you want,” Liam says, turning the oven on and putting the chicken in. It’s already dressed with some seasoning and oil, like his Mrs. Payne didn’t quite trust Liam to go at it blindly.

“I think you’re supposed to, like…preheat the oven first,” Zayn suggests, licking his lips. He doesn’t respond to the invitation, decides that he probably can’t handle that much time alone with Liam without a huge blunder.

“Oh. Hm. Do you think it’ll mess it up?”

And Zayn just shrugs, casts his eyes on the floor.

“Right. Well, um…I guess we can study in my room.” Liam starts walking and Zayn follows, eyeing pictures on the walls as they walk — pictures of Liam, his parents, and the two sisters he’s mentioned to Zayn, both of whom have moved out by now.

There’s awkwardness in the air, and Zayn knows it’s his fault. He should try harder, talk more, do _something_ to let Liam know that he doesn’t actually hate him. But it seems like the only time he can manage that is when they’re riding in Liam’s car on the way to school, sipping on coffee and trying to find a good song on the radio. Or when they’ve had too much to drink and they’re in the bed of the truck and Zayn opens up too much…

“Zayn?”

Liam is looking at him expectantly.

“Sorry, I zoned out for a second there.”

A frown flashes across the other boy’s face, quickly replaced by a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Did you want one?” Liam asks, holding up a bag of chocolate kisses. They’re in his bedroom, Zayn realizes, looking up at last, and he fights to ignore the nervous feeling in his gut, fights the urge to smile when he sees that Liam keeps a stash of chocolates in his room.

“Um. Sure.” When Liam tosses the chocolate, Zayn catches it, unwrapping it and taking in his surroundings. Liam’s bedroom is a little smaller than his own, a little cluttered. It smells like Liam — fresh laundry and clean soap, and something else that reminds Zayn of freshly fallen leaves. There are two posters on the walls — Iron Man and Batman, both on opposite sides of the room like they’re staring each other down. 

“A bit nerdy, I know,” Liam says sheepishly before eating a piece of chocolate.

“No, it’s — I mean, I like it,” Zayn replies. It’s hardly an answer, and it’s an understatement, really, but it’s all he can manage for now. Liam seems to accept the answer, a genuine smile spreading across his face, and Zayn feels relief wash over him. 

“So,” Liam begins, sitting on his bed. He reaches into his backpack and pulls out his copy of _King Lear_. 

Zayn takes a breath before sitting down on the twin sized bed next to Liam, pulling his own book out. He makes sure to keep a good amount of space between them, something that’s socially acceptable.

“Okay, so like…we can start by outlining the plot, if you want?” Zayn says, unsure. 

“Good plan,” Liam agrees. They go through the play and the characters, with Zayn taking initiative every now and then to remind Liam of the small things he’s forgotten, remembering some of the themes they discussed at his old school.

It’s easier than Zayn thought it would be; the conversation flows as long as they stick to the material for class, as long as Zayn keeps his eyes on the book in front of him. He sneaks a few glances when Liam is hunched over his book, occasionally popping another chocolate into his mouth. They both jot down notes, and Liam even pulls out a highlighter at one point that they pass back and forth. It’s pretty uneventful — until it isn’t.

It feels cliche, like a scene from a romantic comedy, when both of them reach for the bag of chocolates at the same time, and their fingers brush with a jolt that has Zayn pulling away like he’s been burned. His eyes are wide, he chews his bottom lip, he tries to ignore the warmth on his cheeks, tries to pretend he isn’t a blushing idiot after something as simple as a touch of the fingertips.

Liam turns to look at him, and there’s something off about him, something soft in his eyes. “Did I, like…do something to offend you?” he asks.

Zayn shakes his head, suddenly mute, his tongue thick in his mouth. If he speaks, he’ll say the wrong thing — but is there even a right thing to say? “N-no, that’s not…that’s not it,” he manages, hoping that will be enough.

Liam stares at him for a moment, and Zayn recognizes that look — it’s the look he gets when he’s solving a problem on the board in math class, like he’s figuring something out, like whatever he’s looking at has got his undivided attention. Zayn feels himself blushing even more under that gaze, squirming and averting his eyes because he knows he’ll give himself away.

“I was just wondering, because you seem to avoid me sometimes, and I know you said you didn’t really want any friends here, but you seem to get along fine with Niall and Harry…and I know you’re quiet, and maybe, like…if you feel weird about what happened at Sophia’s party—”

“That’s not it,” Zayn says softly, cutting him off.

“Okay,” Liam says after a beat. “I just, like…wanted to make sure, is all.”

Zayn looks up, and immediately he knows it’s a mistake, because he’s making eye contact with Liam and he doesn’t know when the other boy got so close that he could count his eyelashes if he wanted to. And here’s where he feels himself losing control, losing the tight grip he’s got on himself, losing the steel walls he keeps up—

He feels like a storm cloud, electricity crackling in his ears, in his eyes, in his chest. He looks at Liam and feels something like lightning between them, the air feels thick with it, and when he leans in and presses his lips to the other boy’s he feels relief like rain washing over him, and it tastes like chapstick and sticky sweet chocolate and for a second he feels himself sighing into it. 

_I’m kissing Liam,_ he thinks, and he chants it like a mantra in his head. _I’m kissing Liam, I’m kissing Liam._

And the thing is, Liam is kissing him back, the brush of his lips making Zayn’s head go fuzzy as he inhales — because when he inhales, it’s _Liam_ , only Liam, and he breathes him in like he’s suffocating.

So maybe that’s why it takes a second for his brain to fully recognize what’s happening. _What the fuck are you doing?_

He pulls away from Liam suddenly, eyes wide, horrified. He wants to bolt out of the room, run all the way back to his house, maybe hide away for a decade or two. _That was stupid, that was stupid, why am I so stupid, why would I do that?_ “I-I shouldn’t have—I’m sorry, Liam, I didn’t mean—”

But Liam’s looking at him, head tilted to the side, eyeing him like he’s finally understanding. His hands are gripping his comforter, idly twisting it in his hands. “It’s…it’s okay, Zayn, you don’t have to apologize—”

Zayn shakes his head, “No, that was stupid of me, I’m really…I’m sorry, you don’t have to act like it’s okay.” He’s on his feet now, packing his books away, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. 

“Wait, Zayn—”

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything, I’m just…I’ll show myself out.” 

And with that, Zayn is out the door.


	4. Chapter 4

It turns out that Zayn is really good at disappearing.

The next morning, Liam pulls up to his house and Zayn isn’t waiting outside on the front steps like he usually is. _Maybe he overslept_ , he thinks, parking in the driveway and walking up to the door. He rings the doorbell, and when the door swings open, his eyes meet Mrs. Malik’s.

“Liam!” she says, eyebrows raised in surprise. “I’m afraid Zayn’s already left for school…I assumed you weren’t able to drive him this morning; he actually got out of bed early enough to catch the bus, for once.” There’s something in her voice like a question, like she can sense the nerves that Liam’s been feeling since yesterday.

“Oh. Right. Um…well, I guess I’ll be going then, sorry to bother you—” Liam says, his heart sinking. Of course Zayn doesn’t want to be near him right now. Last night, he’d taken off like a scared bird, skittish and quick.

Mrs. Malik gives him a curious look for a moment before sighing. “I don’t know if anything happened between you two, but usually…if he’s upset, you know, it’s best to just give him some space.” She pauses like she wants to add something else, but it seems all she can muster is a tight smile. 

“Sure,” Liam says, nodding. “Thanks, Mrs. Malik.”

So he drives to school alone, and he finds his mind wandering when he’s stopped at a red light. He’s been replaying the kiss in his head since last night — the look on Zayn’s face right before, shameful and scared to make eye contact. Liam remembers leaning in, wanting to say or do something that would comfort Zayn, that would show him that they were friends and that he could be honest. He remembers Zayn’s lips pressing against his own, remembers the initial shock, remembers the way his brain stopped working for a moment, remembers the feeling of something unfamiliar and new on his tongue — 

Because he’s never kissed a boy before, and he isn’t sure if it’s the loneliness of missing Sophia or if Zayn is just special, but it wasn’t what he expected. He would’ve expected something rough, maybe. He would’ve expected another boy’s lips to feel heavy on his own, but Zayn’s fluttered across his mouth so lightly that he could’ve dreamt it.

If he closes his eyes, he can almost feel Zayn’s lips against his — chapped, with the lingering taste of cigarette smoke.

A loud car horn shakes him from his thoughts. He looks up, sees that the light has turned green and the car in front of him has already sped off. “Sorry,” he mutters under his breath, as if the person behind him can hear it, and hits the gas pedal.

It’s strange. He’s overthinking again.

But he wonders — is this why Zayn seems so distant at times? Because sometimes when they’re alone together in the car, when the radio is off, he feels so far away. Liam doesn’t press him when that happens, just shrugs it off as part of Zayn’s personality. And then other times, he’ll catch him bouncing in the passenger seat to a song, or singing along, or he’ll tell a joke and Zayn’s mouth will crack open into that cheeky grin of his.

The same mouth that had kissed him. The same mouth that he kissed back.

He pulls into the school parking lot, parks his truck, and trudges into school. He goes through the day feeling as though he’s in a daze, and somehow he doesn’t see Zayn once. Lunch rolls around and he sits at their regular table, waiting for Niall and Harry to return from the long line. And he’s looking around for Zayn too — cautious glances over his shoulder, like maybe the other boy will creep up behind him, quiet and pensive, with a bagged lunch in his hand like every other day.

But he knows that’s not going to happen. Zayn seems to have his heart set on ignoring him, avoiding him. _Fine_ , Liam thinks, taking a bite of his turkey sandwich. _If that’s what he wants, then I shouldn’t force myself on him._

And Mrs. Malik had told him as much. Give him some space, and maybe things will be okay.

“Earth to Liam.”

He looks up to see Niall staring at him expectantly.

“Wh-what?” Liam asks.

“Is something wrong?” Niall wonders.

“No. No, everything’s fine, I’m just a bit out of it today, is all,” he says quickly. Maybe too quickly, he realizes, when Niall quirks an eyebrow at him.

But he lets it slide, gives a nod and turns back to his food. “I was asking where Zayn was.”

“Oh. Um, I’m not exactly sure. Haven’t really seen him around today.”

And Niall’s looking at him again. “Weird,” he comments with a shrug. He’s letting it go, willing to pretend nothing is wrong as long as Liam wants him to, and Liam is extremely grateful for that. 

Harry comes over then, setting his tray down. “How was the study party?” he asks.

Liam shrugs. “It was okay. Just me and Zayn, so, you know, it was kinda quiet.”

“Watch out for the quiet ones,” Harry says with a sly smirk, eyebrows waggling, and Liam’s not entirely sure what he means by that — or if he means anything, really, since Harry has a habit of talking out of his ass — so he shrugs again and ignores the comment.

He looks up every now and then, eyes scanning the cafeteria, searching for Zayn, but it’s like he’s disappeared. Maybe he’s skipping lunch, or skipping school. Would he really go to such lengths just to avoid Liam?

The empty seat where Zayn should be sitting seems to answer that question with a resounding _yes_.

In class, he finally catches a glimpse of Zayn, whose gaze is focused downward. Liam practically stares at him for the entire class, and Zayn manages to keep his eyes from wandering, even a little bit, in his direction.

When he gets home, Liam does his homework, eats a snack, helps his mother prepare dinner. He sits down and eats with his parents, a bit quieter than usual, a bit more pensive. His mind keeps wandering to last night, the kiss replaying in his head.

 _Did I like it?_ he keeps wondering.

The next morning, he goes on a run, deliberately passing by Zayn’s house. He stops on the street, looking up at the attic window, waiting to see Zayn’s head pop out, a cigarette between his lips. But after a moment or two, when that doesn’t happen, he heads back to his own house, sending a quick text to Zayn before he takes a shower.

_do u need a ride today?_

He doesn’t actually expect an answer, so he’s surprised when he steps out of the shower and sees his phone screen lighting up.

_no that’s ok, thanks though_

So Liam gets dressed and drives to school alone again, and when that stupid Drake song comes on, he switches the radio station.

—

Zayn wakes up feeling more tired than he did when he went to bed. He hasn’t slept much over the past two days — there’s been something uneasy in his stomach and a bitter taste like bile on his tongue. Pulling the covers up to his chin, he stares at the ceiling. The paint is still peeling, only because Zayn hasn’t been pushing his parents to redecorate his bedroom. His sisters have been adamant about it, turning their new rooms into cozy spaces, adding color to the walls, putting up artwork. Zayn suggested once over dinner that his parents let him spray paint his own walls, but after one glare from his mom, he gave up on that idea.

 _Whatever_. It’s not like he plans to stay here much longer. He hasn’t even unpacked; everything he owns is neatly tucked away into cardboard boxes, with the exception of his clothes. They spill out of a laundry basket, or litter the floor next to the dresser that he hasn’t bothered to crack open. 

It seems like too big of a task to complete, it seems like it’ll take too long, and he’s only got a few more months left in this shitty house, so why bother?

“ _Zayn!_ Are you awake?” his mother calls from downstairs.

He turns over onto his side, his back facing the door. He closes his eyes, feigning sleep. Getting out of bed is too intimidating today, with every task of the day — showering, getting dressed, eating breakfast, catching the bus, going to his classes, coming home, doing homework — stacking up in front of him, growing higher and higher. It’s an impossible list of meaningless tasks, of faking and faking and faking his way through a day, a week, a month, a year. He can’t do it today, can’t wrap his head around it all.

It’s just _too much_ , too much, all the time. It’s like his task list never diminishes, and he can check off everything only to find that there’s another page, and another, and another…

He’s tired. It takes the form of numbness in his bones, in his brain, in his body. It’s on his skin, a thin film of grime from skipping a shower yesterday.

The door opens. “Zayn?” It’s his mother again, softer now, gentler. “Are you awake, love?”

He doesn’t turn to face her, but nods quietly and pulls his blanket up like it will shield him from her. The springs of the mattress groan and shift when she sits down beside him, a hand stroking his hair.

“You’ll miss the bus if you don’t get up soon.”

Zayn doesn’t say anything for a moment, letting his mother stroke his hair, leaning into the comforting touch. “Can’t,” he responds finally.

Now it’s her turn to pause, and he pictures the look on her face — concerned, probably. She’s worried, he can hear it in her silence. “Okay,” she says finally. She’s exuding calmness, understanding, but he knows that she’s probably biting her lip, that she’ll go downstairs and call his old therapist. He feels her lips brush against his temple before her weight is suddenly gone, the bed feeling colder and emptier than it did before. 

He hears his phone go off and reaches out to grab it from the bedside table.

_do u need a ride today?_

Seeing Liam’s name flashing up on his phone causes a wave of nausea to go through him. It takes a while for him to calm down enough to reply, and he taps out a simple answer, something that will keep him from having to explain.

He’s been avoiding thinking about what happened at Liam’s house — or he’s been trying to, at least, but he hasn’t been able to suppress that voice in the back of his head.

_This is why you’re here in the first place._

Because it is, isn’t it? Yaser has been good about pretending that they moved here because of some _amazing_ career opportunity, because it was time for him to leave one office job and switch to another. Uprooting the family was fine, it was worth it, because he’d be making more money, and his mother’s house was already there, just waiting for them to move in and renovate the place, to turn it into a vibrant new home instead of a sad decaying shell.

But Zayn isn’t stupid, and he knows better. They moved here because of him, because his parents don’t want him getting bullied anymore, because they think running away from the problem might help. They moved here, left everything behind, all because Zayn wasn’t strong enough to get over himself.

He grimaces, squeezes his eyes shut, draws into himself, his mind tired and sluggish but still racing with memories. 

_That day, he came home —_ home _, back in his old house — with a backpack slung over his shoulder, his side bruised and tender from a few sharp kicks to the gut. It hurt to breathe too deeply, so he kept his breathing short as he holed up in his room. The house was quiet, his sisters still at school and his parents at work. There was only one thing running through his mind:_ I can’t do it anymore.

_An hour later, he was hunched over the bathroom counter, eyeing his reflection. He had a black eye, a razor in his hand. His hands shook, he remembers, as the blade sank into his skin…_

He sits up, pulling out his headphones, plugging them into his phone, putting his music on shuffle. He needs a distraction, something loud and pulsing, but he hears the opening chords of that Drake song instead.

“Fuck off,” he grumbles to no one in particular, skipping the song immediately. 

—

Liam is antsy. Nervous energy runs through his veins, he’s practically jumping in his seat. He’s been like this all day — Niall asked him twice if he’d had too much coffee this morning, and Harry had felt it necessary to give him a shoulder rub at lunch (although, admittedly, that wasn’t so bad), and now he’s got thirty minutes left until he’s out of class and every second stretches on and on and _on_ …

When the bell finally rings, he’s practically leaping out of his seat. He doesn’t stop to talk to Harry or Niall before jumping into his truck, revving up the engine, and making his way home. All he can think about is how desperately he needs to be doing _something,_ and when he makes it home, he’s barely walked through the front door before he’s stripping down and pulling on a pair of running shorts and a t-shirt. It’s a bit chilly outside, and Loki seems timid about the oncoming storm when Liam lets him outside to relieve himself, but Liam hardly feels the cold air as he runs out of the house, full speed ahead. It’s nothing like his run this morning; he’d been pacing himself then, but now he needs to feel his lungs burning. He needs to feel the soreness in his legs from wearing himself out, from pushing harder than he should.

Rainclouds are rolling in, and he barely notices. 

He’s not sure what’s gotten into him, but he runs past Zayn’s house again, eyes on the attic window. He thinks he sees the curtain move, but the motion is so quick and he’s running so fast that it could’ve been his mind playing tricks on him.

As he gets back to his house, the rain starts to fall in fat drops. He darts inside, running a hand through his damp hair, and pulls out his phone.

“Hullo?” Harry answers, his voice sleepy.

“Is the bakery busy?” Liam asks.

“I hope not.”

“Are you napping in the back again?”

Harry doesn’t answer, but Liam hears a loud yawn and rolls his eyes. “Is it cool if I come by? I’m freaking out a little bit.”

“Of course you can come by. One piece of chocolate cake on me,” Harry replies. He doesn’t ask any questions, and Liam is grateful for that as he climbs back into the truck. It takes about ten minutes for him to get to the bakery, where he sees only Harry’s car parked.

As he steps into the small shop, the bell hanging over the door rings. Harry is leaning on the counter, a paperback novel in his hands, and he looks up at Liam with a cautious smile. “So,” he says pointedly, sliding a plate of chocolate cake over. He sets the book down and turns around, opening a cabinet behind the counter to pull out two plastic forks, and then hands one of them to Liam.

“So,” Liam echoes, taking a large bite of cake.

“Are you in one of your weird moods again?” 

“I don’t know what you mean by that, Harry.”

But when he looks up, Harry is looking at him like he’s full of shit, which he kind of is.

“I guess,” he admits, letting out a long sigh. He glances over his shoulder, notes that the shop is completely empty, then turns back to Harry. “So, like, something weird happened the other night when Zayn came over.”

Harry raises an eyebrow. “Oh?”

“He, uh…he kissed me?”

Both of Harry’s eyebrows shoot up. “ _Oh_.”

“Like, I was asking if I did something to upset him because, like…the whole time he was over, he was acting…weird, you know? And you know I don’t like it when people are mad at me, so…I asked.”

Harry is quiet for a moment, chewing thoughtfully before asking, “Did you like it?”

Liam glares. “That’s not what I came to talk about.”

And it doesn’t seem like the other boy believes it, not really, but he nods thoughtfully before replying, “Then what _did_ you come to talk about?” He licks chocolate frosting from his lips and they settle into an easy smile.

Liam shrugs, taking a large bite of cake. “I just…I don’t get it. I don’t get why it happened. I keep thinking about it. And now he’s avoiding me, so I can’t even talk to him about it.”

Harry is quiet, eyebrows furrowed. “Well,” he says slowly after a moment passes. “Does it bother you that he might feel that way about you?”

“Obviously not. I’m not some sort of…bigot, or whatever. It just took me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting it, you know? As far as guys go, Zayn is pretty good looking, so I mean…it could’ve been way worse.”

“But he doesn’t know that.”

Liam bites his bottom lip and thinks back to the story Zayn had told him about his old school. The last time he made a move on somebody, he was pushed to the brink of taking his own life. It makes sense that he’d be regretful of kissing Liam, that he might be afraid to confront him afterward.

“I’m going to talk to him,” Liam muses to himself, standing up rather suddenly.

“Uh… _now_? What, are you just going to barge up to his door and explain that you aren’t homophobic?”

“See you later, Styles!” 

Liam races out of the bakery, leaps into his truck, and speeds off to Zayn’s house, leaving Harry blinking at the bakery counter.

—

Zayn manages to get out of bed. 

It’s still early in the afternoon, his sisters still off at school and his parents at work, and it’s only because he really, really has to pee. He considers going back to bed after he steps out of the bathroom, but his stomach growls in protest. 

This whole _survival_ thing is really putting a damper on his plans to lie in bed all day.

He lets out a little noise of annoyance as he walks downstairs, remembering what his old therapist used to say. _Your body is telling you it wants to live. Your body is fighting your mind. Try and help it out._

Two pills and a glass of water sit on the counter, and he knows his mother set them out for him. He takes the medicine, chases it with a gulp of water, then goes to make something to eat. Flinging open the refrigerator door, he reaches for the first thing he sees — a gallon of milk — before making his way over to the pantry. There’s a box of Lucky Charms on the top shelf, so he fixes himself a bowl of cereal and sits at the kitchen table, taking the seat his father likes. The newspaper is folded so that the sports section is staring up at him, a list of numbers and names and scores and teams. It’s easy to look at, Zayn decides, so he starts reading baseball scores to himself, despite knowing little about the sport, and it helps him to forget just how unappetizing the cereal is right now. It’s too heavy, too sugary on his tongue, and the milk is too thick, but he manages to take bite after bite.

He thinks he hears a car pulling up in the driveway — but that’s not right, it’s still far too early for either of his parents to have gotten home yet. So he goes back to the scores in front of him, moving on to the soccer section, and he’s halfway done with them by the time he hears a frantic banging at the door.

Zayn’s head snaps up with a start. He swallows a mouthful of cereal, giving the door a rather accusatory look. Slowly, he pushes out of his seat and goes over to the foyer, bringing an eye up to the peephole just in time for a second round of knocks.

He nearly leaps away from the door when he sees a head of damp brown curls and wide eyes staring back at him. 

“Zayn? Uh. Um, it’s me. It’s Liam. From, uh…from school. If you’re in there, can you…can you open up?” he asks. “It’s, um. It’s raining.”

Zayn creeps up to the door again, cracking it open. “What do you need, Liam?” he asks, accusation clear in his voice.

“I just want to talk to you. For, like…five minutes. Really briefly.”

Zayn thinks about that for a second. “No.”

“I just—look, I know you’re upset about what happened the other day, but—”

“You think I want to talk about that?” Zayn demands, pulling the door open. He stands in the doorway with Liam on the other side, eyes meeting. His nostrils flare indignantly as he continues, “What, so you can tell me that you’re _straight_? So you can tell me that you like me, but not _in that way_? I get it, okay? I’m…I’m barking up the wrong tree. I get it. But I’m not feeling particularly well today, so I’d really appreciate it if you could…”

He trails off, letting the unfinished word hang in the air as he nods toward the beat-up pickup truck in his driveway.

Liam doesn’t say anything as the moment passes. He doesn’t move once, doesn’t inch away from the door, doesn’t nod in agreement. He just takes a deep breath and lets out a long, heavy sounding sigh. “Zayn,” he says finally, his voice soft. “It doesn’t bother me that you’re gay. Or…or, bi, even…you know, like…if that’s what you are. I just…I miss you, is all. You’re my friend, and that’s a part of you, and I know stuff happened at your old school, so like…I get why you’re upset. And I’m worried since you weren’t in school today. That’s all I wanted to say. I can leave now, if you want. I’m sorry for bothering you.”

Zayn chews his bottom lip and looks down at his own bare feet, silently considering those words. When he looks up again, Liam’s halfway to his car.

“Wait,” Zayn calls out.

Liam turns around to face him, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

“Come inside,” Zayn says. “It’s, um. It’s raining.”

And he wishes he could ignore the big grin that spreads across Liam’s face. He wishes he could ignore the way his eyes light up, the way happiness seems to spill out of him like there’s too much of it for just one person to contain. The sky is gray, and Liam is too bright when he steps into the Maliks’ home.

—

Zayn’s room is a mess.

There are piles of clothes littering the floor, and a pile of cardboard boxes is pushed into the far corner of the room. There are three pieces of furniture: a twin sized bed, a dresser — which, judging by the fact that Zayn’s entire wardrobe seems to be on the floor, is more than likely empty — and a nightstand, where a small lamp sits. A Polaroid picture is taped onto the lamp, with a note scrawled messily onto the white space at the bottom: _so you don’t forget how handsome I am_. The photograph is a bit blurry, but Liam can clearly make out a brown-haired boy and Zayn. The other boy’s arm is slung around Zayn’s shoulders, and Zayn gives the camera a perfectly bored expression while his companion sticks out his tongue and crosses his eyes.

“Who’s that?” Liam asks.

“Louis. He’s, uh…he was, like, my best friend back home,” Zayn mutters, collapsing facedown onto his bed. “Feel free to sit wherever you like.” His voice is muffled by his pillow when he speaks.

The walls are completely bare except for chipping white paint. It’s a stark contrast from the rest of the house; when they had come up to Zayn’s room, they’d passed at least six family portraits, as well as photos of each of the Malik children in various stages throughout their childhood. The rest of the house is perfectly kept, filled with warm browns, oranges, and reds.

But this room just looks like it’s a container for all of Zayn’s things, a place for him to sleep at night, and Liam wonders if that’s all it is to him.

He takes a seat on the floor. “I took the liberty of grabbing some of your homework assignments. Not all of them. Just, er…well, we’re in math together, and Reinhardt gives all her senior classes the same assignments, and Niall’s the one who got your art assignment. But, um. I don’t really know your other classes, so I couldn’t…I couldn’t get any of those assignments.”

There’s a pause before Zayn mumbles, “Thanks.” 

“Anytime.”

Zayn is silent after that, so Liam pulls a book out of his backpack and starts his reading for English tomorrow. A few moments pass before he asks, “Mind if I put on some music?”

“Mm,” Zayn hums. It sounds like a positive reply, so Liam pulls his phone out and puts his music on shuffle.

Neither boy speaks, and Liam isn’t sure how much time passes before he hears Zayn make a sound — creaking mattress springs and a gentle little moan that makes Liam’s ears go red as he glances up at the other boy. He realizes that Zayn is asleep, mouth halfway open as he lies on his back. 

Liam turns back to his book, trying to focus on the words in front of him, but his eyes are drawn to Zayn again. The boy is splayed out, an arm hanging off the side of the bed. “Uh. Zayn?”

Zayn doesn’t respond. 

The rain pours outside, a gentle backdrop for the music that’s playing from his phone, and Zayn is fast asleep, boyish and tender in the comfort of his own bed. His chest rises and falls steadily, and Liam feels like he shouldn’t be here, like he’s intruding.

Just then, he hears the front door open. “Zayn? Zayn, love, are you up? Is Liam here?”

It’s Mrs. Malik, and Liam doesn’t quite know what to do when he hears her footsteps coming up the stairs. “Zayn?” She knocks on the closed door before opening it, poking her head in. “Oh. Hi, Liam. I saw your car out in the driveway. Are you staying for dinner?” she wants to know.

“Um. I don’t have to, I’m sure my mom’s cooking something—”

“It’s no trouble at all, dear. It’s _pouring_ out there, and we certainly don’t mind the extra company,” she says with a kind smile.

“Well, in that case…I mean, as long as it’s no trouble…”

“Not at all, I just went out and picked up some pizza, and we’ve always got extra.” She steps into the room making her way over to Zayn’s bed, where she takes a seat at his side. Shaking him gently, she coos, “Time to get up, sunshine. It’s almost time for dinner. Your father will be home with the girls in a bit.”

“Mm-m. Not hungry,” Zayn protests.

“Liam’s staying for dinner. When your dad gets home, I want you both downstairs and ready to eat,” she says, her voice still gentle despite the sternness. She stands up again and leaves the room.

Zayn opens one eye and looks over at Liam before giving a small nod and sitting up in his bed. “Forgot that she’s obsessed with you,” he mutters, a smile pulling at his lips.

“Obsessed with me?” Liam repeats, setting his book down.

“She asks about you all the time. You know how parents are, she’s just happy to see that I’m, like…making friends, I guess.”

Liam nods. “Yeah, I get it.” He sheepishly looks up at Zayn. “We’re…we’re cool, though, right?”

Zayn smiles again, eyes cast downward like he’s afraid to look up at Liam. “Yeah. We’re cool.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to update again this weekend, if I can! Hope you enjoy this chapter.

Zayn is already awake when his phone starts vibrating.

He grabs it from his nightstand, glancing at the name that pops up before answering with a raspy _hello_.

“You haven’t called me _once_ ,” Louis complains immediately.

“You haven’t called me either,” Zayn replies, doing his best to sound annoyed.

Louis pauses. “Yeah. I know. I had a dream last night where you were being really fucking annoying. Like, you just invited yourself over to my place and started eating all of my food. Then I realized that that was more of a memory than a dream, which prompted me to think, _Gee, I wonder what Z’s been up to._ ”

“Well, I _was_ trying to get some more sleep, considering it’s Saturday and all.”

“You wouldn’t have picked up if you weren’t already awake.”

Zayn sighs. “That’s fair.”

“So, how do you like it out in Bumfuck, Nowhere? Are the other kids playing nice? Do they let you ride on their tractors? Have you fallen for any straight boys lately?”

“Have _you_ fallen for any straight boys lately? Because you’ve got a penchant for that—”

“Penchant? Is that an SAT word? The schools really _are_ better outside of the city,” Louis interrupts.

“Did you call me so that you could make fun of me, or did you call me because you actually want to have a conversation?” 

There’s a long pause before Louis replies. “Both. I miss you.” Another pause.  “Answer my questions.”

“Heartwarming,” Zayn says. “Er, it’s boring out here. The kids are okay. Haven’t been invited to ride any tractors yet. I did ride in the back of a pickup truck, though.”

“How very _Beverly Hillbillies_ of you.” The amusement falls from Louis’ voice when he speaks again. “But really, how are you doing?”

Zayn lets out a heavy sigh. “I’m okay. Better, I guess. The meds are working well enough that my parents haven’t started the whole therapy thing back up again, so that’s nice. How’s college life treating you? Done any keg stands yet?”

“ _Community_ college, Zayn. I’m not exactly sneaking out of my dorm to hang out at the frat house. It’s all right, though. Plenty of homework to keep me occupied. It's boring without you.” 

“This place is boring regardless. But it’d be a little less boring with you around, I guess,” Zayn teases.

There’s a long silence before Louis speaks again.

“Also, I’m in your driveway right now.”

“Um. _What_?”

“Finally saved up enough money to buy a car, so I wanted to take a road trip, and I realized that my dear friend Zayn Malik was only a couple hours away. Come outside, Zaynie. Let’s go out for breakfast. Pancakes! Or waffles, maybe, I dunno. Do they have IHOP out here?”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “I’ll be out in ten.”

“Five.”

“ _Ten_ ,” he corrects, hanging up.

He can’t help the excited way his heart races as he gets dressed and runs a hand through his messy hair, trying to make himself look somewhat presentable. It’s just Louis, though, so it’s not a big deal when he steps out of the house in gray sweatpants and a t-shirt.

Louis’ car is a sad looking Volkswagen Beetle with a few spots of peeling paint, and it looks like it might fall apart as soon as it gets the chance, but he’s beaming when Zayn climbs into the passenger seat.

“Nice ride,” Zayn comments, unable to keep the grin off his face.

“Seven minutes, nice compromise,” Louis replies. “Where are we headed?”

“Mm,” Zayn hums, thinking about it for a moment. “There’s this diner I hear is good?”

“Then show me the way,” Louis says, backing out of the driveway.

The drive is loud, with Louis filling Zayn in on everything he’s missed — gossip about some of their former classmates, complaints about the community college he’s been attending. Zayn offers a few short stories about his new school and thinks he sees worry dissolve from Louis’ face when he mentions that he’s made a few friends.

When they pull up to the diner, Louis lets out a little laugh. “This is quaint,” he says.

The restaurant is small and dingy, one of those hole-in-the-wall places that Zayn probably wouldn’t have voluntarily gone to were it not for the recommendations from Liam, Niall, and Harry. “It’s supposed to be really good,” Zayn replies with a shrug. “Besides, I dunno what else you expect. This is hardly a town, it’s just, like…one of those places you see out the window on a road trip, you know? Something to look at in between red lights.”

Louis laughs again at that, turning the car off.

Once they’re inside, a hostess in an apron greets them with a friendly smile. “Just the two of you?” she asks, already holding two menus in her hand.

“Yep,” Zayn says. She gives him a smile and leads them to a booth in the corner of the restaurant. Zayn sits with his back to the wall, giving him a good view of the room.

“Your server will be with you shortly,” the hostess says, handing them their menus and stepping away.

Almost immediately, a blonde girl comes over to their table. “Hi, my name is Perrie, I’ll be taking care of you today—” she starts, but her eyes narrow as soon as she sees Zayn. “Oh. Well, I guess you already know my name.”

“Um. Hi,” Zayn says awkwardly.

“I take it you two know each other,” Louis says, amusement in his voice as he glances back and forth between them. “I’m Louis, by the way. Do you go to school with Zayn?”

“Mhm,” Perrie hums, cheeks flushing. Zayn can’t help but admire how convincingly she grins when she speaks again. “So, what will you two be having to drink, then?”

“Coffee,” Zayn and Louis answer at the same time.

“Great, I’ll be right back with that,” Perrie says.

As she walks away, Zayn slumps back in his seat. “Oh my _god_.”

“Why was that interaction so uncomfortable?” Louis smirks.

“Um…I sort of made out with her drunkenly and ran away.”

“Not surprising,” Louis scoffs.

“Why is that not surprising?”

“It just seems like something you’d do, is all.”

“See, _this_ is why I never call you,” Zayn mumbles.

Perrie approaches them, balancing two mugs of coffee and two glasses of water on a tray. “Went ahead and got some waters for you, too,” she says, setting the drinks down in front of them.

“Thank you,” Zayn says, trying to avoid eye contact with her.

“Do you need some more time, or did you know what you wanted to order?”

“We’ll need a few more minutes,” Louis answers, laughing to himself when Perrie walks away. “She seems nice. Not that you deserve it.”

Zayn rolls his eyes and opens his mouth to give Louis a sarcastic comeback, but he stops before any sound comes out when he sees Liam Payne walking through the door of the restaurant. He curses under his breath and starts wondering if it would be completely ridiculous to hold up his menu and hide behind it, but Liam’s eyes find his quickly. A smile breaks out on the other boy’s face, like he’s genuinely happy to see Zayn, and he heads over with Niall and Harry in tow.

“Hey! I just drove by your place, went to see if you wanted to join us, but your mom said you were out with a friend,” Liam says, hovering over their table.

“Um, hi,” Zayn stammers.

“My name’s Louis, I’m the aforementioned friend,” Louis chimes in. “You guys should sit with us!”

Zayn kicks him under the table, earning a dirty look, but Louis doesn’t rescind his invitation.

“Sounds great,” Liam says, turning to look at Harry and Niall. “As long as it’s cool with you guys?”

“Peachy.” Harry grins.

“Yeah, the more the merrier,” Niall agrees.

 _Great_ , Zayn thinks.

Niall and Harry squeeze into the booth next to Louis, and Zayn feels like maybe there’s some sort of conspiracy going on when Liam sits next to him. Perrie comes rushing over when she sees the new additions to the table.

“Sup, Pez?” Niall asks. She lets out a genuine laugh, which Zayn doesn’t think he’s seen her do yet. 

“Hey, Niall! And everyone else. The usual, then?” she asks, looking around at the table. The boys nod, and she scribbles something down on her notepad before looking up at Louis and Zayn.

“I want as many waffles as you can fit on one plate. Also, pancakes,” Louis says, handing her his menu. 

“Er, same, I guess,” Zayn mutters.

“Cool, it’ll be out in a bit. Let me know if you need anything!” she says cheerily. Her entire demeanor has changed now that the other boys have arrived, and the awkwardness has mostly dissipated. She gathers their menus and goes back into the kitchen.

“Probably should’ve warned you that she worked here when I recommended it to you,” Liam says apologetically.

Zayn tries not to squirm in his seat whenever their thighs brush together as the others ask Louis about himself. Louis doesn’t mind the attention, is happy to joke around and laugh with three strangers, and Zayn can’t help but envy the ease with which he approaches unfamiliar situations.

Liam seems to pick up on this, occasionally giving Zayn a reassuring smile and speaking only to him while the other three burst into laughter at whatever joke Louis just told. “You didn’t tell me he was visiting this weekend. What are your plans for the rest of the day?” he asks.

“I didn’t know,” Zayn admits. “And, uh…I don’t really know what we’re doing after this.”

“I was thinking of heading to the drive-in tonight for the double feature. Niall will probably pack some snacks, and it’s supposed to be one of the last warm nights of the year. You guys should come. I mean, you know, if you want to.”

Zayn bites his bottom lip, kicking Louis under the table again.

“Ow! Jesus, Zayn, there are better ways to get people’s attention,” he complains.

“Wanna go to the drive-in tonight?” Zayn asks, ignoring him.

“A drive-in? What, like a real one? They have those out here?” Louis marvels. “Um, _yes_ , I would like to go to a drive-in. Is there a sock hop afterward?”

Zayn kicks him again for good measure before turning back to Liam. “Yeah, that’d be cool.”

When their food comes out, it takes both Perrie and one of her coworkers to bring it all to the table. Zayn stares down at the two full plates in front of him, wondering why on earth he followed Louis’ lead.

“Dig in, boys,” Perrie says with a laugh. “I’m going to be very impressed if I come back to clean plates.”

Louis, of course, takes that as a challenge.

—

“See you in a bit,” Liam says to Zayn and Louis as they all walk out of the diner together. “The movie’ll start at sunset, so we’ll probably head over to the drive-in a little before then. I’ll text you?”

“Um. Yeah, okay,” Zayn responds, smiling shyly. Their eyes meet, lingering for a second too long. Liam is caught up in long eyelashes and irises that remind him of autumn, and his breath hitches in his throat before one of the other boys chimes in and draws their attention.

The moment replays in his head as Liam drops Harry and Niall off at their houses and heads home, where he sits up in his room and tries to work on some homework, trying to stay focused for more than a few minutes at a time; it’s difficult, though, when his mind keeps going back to Zayn.

He shakes his head, runs a hand through his hair, tries to clear his thoughts. There’s a calculus equation in front of him, and Liam’s never been too fond of math. He always found it cold and impersonal, favoring more concrete subjects — things like history and English, things he can clearly picture. 

Pulling out his phone, he figures he’ll text Harry about it to see if he’s had as much trouble with the assignment. But then he gets an idea and, before he gets a chance to change his mind, sends a text to Zayn instead.

_have you started on the math hw? pretty sure it’s impossible lol._

It only takes a couple of minutes before his phone vibrates with a response.

_uhhh no, wasn’t planning to work on it til tmrw :P especially not w/ louis here._

Liam’s cheeks flush. _whoops sorry, i forgot not everyone is a huge loser who does hw on saturdays haha._

Zayn replies quickly again. _aha no! you’re not a loser, you’re a good student! gotta get on that college grind :P_

 _yeah, i guess,_ Liam texts back. The conversation seems to have ended, and he’s about to turn back to his homework when his phone buzzes again.

_me and louis are really excited for the drive-in btw. thanks for inviting us :D_

Liam’s heart speeds up at that. He can’t help but let out a little laugh at the emoticon Zayn uses, responding with a simple _of course :)_ before trying to decipher the equation in front of him.

—

It’s just past six when Liam heads out to pick up the other boys. They decide to take two cars so that they aren’t all crammed into one vehicle, so Liam, Zayn, and Louis all ride together and meet Harry and Niall at the drive-in.

When they arrive, Liam backs into a space so that that the bed of the truck faces the screen. Zayn, who is sitting in the passenger seat of the truck, gives Liam a curious look. “Harry likes to sprawl out in the bed of the truck when he watches the movies,” Liam explains with a chuckle. 

“Good luck getting Louis to move from back there,” Zayn snickers, nodding toward the back of the truck, where Louis decided to ride so that he could get a _genuine country bumpkin experience._

Niall and Harry pull up next to them in Niall’s Jeep, and they all climb out of their respective vehicles. “All right. We’ve got some contraband snacks in the back of my car, so if anyone wants them, grab them now,” Niall says.

They divide up candy and chips as discreetly as possible so as not to attract the attention of any employees. By sunset, Harry and Louis are both perched in the bed of Liam’s truck, with Niall, Liam, and Zayn in the Jeep. 

Somehow, it works out so that Liam and Zayn are sitting together in the back seat, with Niall spread out in the front. The first movie starts — a kids’ movie, some cartoon that Zayn seems to get a kick out of. Liam can’t help but laugh at the cheesy jokes in the film, unable to keep his eyes on the screen when Zayn is lighting up next to him. There’s something captivating about the way his eyes scrunch up, with his tongue touching the roof of his mouth. It’s fitting that they’re watching a cartoon movie, because Zayn’s laugh almost makes him look like an excited kid.

After the credits roll, there’s an intermission between films. Niall uses the time to go to the bathroom, while Harry and Louis come rummaging through what’s left of the snacks to collect them for the next movie. “Saved these for you, Z,” Louis says, tossing a mostly empty bag of gummy bears to Zayn

Zayn smiles, then turns to Liam to explain. “The red ones are my favorite,” he mutters. “Thanks, Lou.”

Liam can’t help but smile at the exchange, and soon the second film is starting. The movie is about halfway finished when Zayn starts nodding off, despite it being a loud action movie with plenty of explosions that would wake most people up. His head rolls to the side at one point, so that the top of his head is grazing Liam’s shoulder, and Liam doesn’t think anything of it when he wraps an arm around Zayn and pulls him in closer, allowing his head to fully rest on his shoulder. 

It’s nothing he wouldn’t have done with Harry or Niall, who have no sense of boundaries, and yet it feels different with Zayn. For one thing, Liam has never been so concerned with ensuring that Harry or Niall don’t wake up; it always gets a laugh out of him when a loud noise startles them awake. But he remembers Zayn mentioning that he has trouble sleeping, and Liam can’t help but want to let him sleep through the rest of the movie so that he can catch up on rest.

When the movie finally ends, he takes a hand to Zayn’s cheek, stroking his skin gently. “Wake up, the movie’s over,” he says, voice just above a whisper like he’s afraid to be too loud.

“Mm,” Zayn hums, eyes fluttering open. It takes a few seconds for him to realize that he’s cuddled up with Liam, and he immediately pulls away, embarrassment written on his face. “Um. Sorry, didn’t mean to, um, fall asleep on you.”

Liam laughs, grateful that Zayn won’t be able to see his cheeks flushing in the darkness. “It’s fine. Um, do you want me to take your trash?”

“What?”

He nods toward the empty chip and candy bags that Zayn’s holding. “I was gonna do a quick trip to the trash can and the bathroom, might as well grab everything while I’m here.”

“Oh. Yeah, thanks,” Zayn says, handing them over.

Liam takes a deep breath of the cool night air as he steps out of the Jeep, hands full of various wrappers and bags from the three of them. It doesn’t take long for him to dispose of everything, and when he’s on his way back from the bathroom he hears someone calling his name. 

Turning around to face the sound, he sees Sophia walking in his direction, a big grin on her face. Liam does his best to imitate the expression, hoping that she won’t be able to notice the way that he’s fidgeting nervously. “Hey,” he greets her, trying his best to feign indifference as he shoves his hands into his pockets.

“I haven’t seen you around here in a while,” she observes.

Liam doesn’t want to admit that he’s been avoiding her, so he simply says, “I’ve been busy.”

“Right,” Sophia replies, running a hand through her long hair. She pauses before speaking again, clearing her throat. “Look, Liam. I’m…sorry about the way things ended between us. Um, I know you’ve been avoiding me lately, and all, but I was hoping the two of us could hang out again sometime. Just as friends, you know. We’ve known each other so long, and I don’t want all of this to ruin what we had completely.” 

She seems genuine, and maybe that’s why it slips so easily from Liam’s mouth. “That’d be cool,” he agrees. 

Sophia flashes him another smile. “Awesome! Um, I’ll text you, I guess?”

“Sure, that’s fine. Uh, I’ve got to get back to the boys, so…”

“Yeah, El is waiting for me. See you at school.”

And with that, they both head their separate ways, with Liam kicking himself for going along with it. As much as he likes to tell himself that Sophia _didn’t_ break his heart and that their breakup was mutual, the only reason he’s been able to recover from the ordeal is because he made a conscious effort to cut her completely from his life. Spending time with her could just make all those emotions come rushing back again.

 _I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it,_ he tells himself silently.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally able to update again! I apologize for being a couple days later than anticipated, but I've been without internet for the past two weeks or so. Not sure when I'll be able to post the next chapter, but if I get some writing done over the next few days then it'll be sooner rather than later :)

Zayn is taking his usual morning cigarette, having crawled over Louis — who was sprawled out in the middle of his fucking bed, hogging all the covers, of _course_ — to stand by the window. It’s half past seven in the morning, and there’s no earthly reason for him to be awake at this time on a Sunday, but it almost seems worth it when Liam comes jogging down the street.

He takes a long drag from his cigarette, waiting for Liam to stop and wave, like he usually does. Sure enough, the boy stops in the middle of his run, standing on the street, his shirt soaked with sweat. Zayn is immensely thankful for the distance between them, because if they were any closer, Liam might be able to see just how openly he’s staring at him.

Exhaling a cloud of smoke, Zayn tries to control himself. He’s already sporting an hard-on from having just woken up, and Liam is certainly not helping.

“What’re you doing today?” Liam calls out.

Zayn gives a shrug. “Homework, probably.”

“Harry just woke me up to invite me to come out to the river with him and Niall. You in?”

It dawns on Zayn that he’s somehow become a part of their little group, that he’s now automatically invited to their gatherings. And it’s weird, because he’s never really had that before; sure, he used to fuck around with Louis all the time at their old school, but it was always just the two of them, misfits who didn’t really belong anywhere else.

But Liam is well-liked around school, a bit of a jock, and maybe one of the nicest people Zayn has ever met, and he inexplicably wants to spend time with the weird new kid, even after learning about everything that’s happened in the past year.

Zayn glances back at Louis — still dead asleep — before turning back to Liam. “Yeah, sure.”

Liam grins. “Harry’s picking us up in an hour!” He waves before running off, and Zayn watches as his figure retreats down the block.

—

“My anaconda don’t want none unless you got buns, hun,” Harry belts out from the driver’s seat.

There’s a cooler full of beer and sandwiches in the trunk of the car, and Louis is casually rolling a joint from the passenger seat. Zayn isn’t completely sure how he managed to get that seat, since usually Niall is the first to call shotgun when Harry’s driving, but he thinks he can tell what he’s up to. Harry is precisely Louis’ type, a little odd and nice to look at. He always did like the pretty ones, told Zayn as much the one time they fooled around a couple of years ago ( _a mistake_ , they both decided, laughing at themselves the following morning).

So Zayn is squished between Niall and Liam in the backseat while Nicki Minaj blasts from the radio, and he can’t help but laugh whenever Harry starts dancing along to the music.

“This dude named Michael used to ride motorcycles, dick bigger than a tower, I ain’t talkin’ ‘bout Eiffel,” Louis sings along.

Zayn bursts into a fit of giggles at that, and it only gets worse when Liam chimes in.

“Pussy put his ass to sleep, now he calling me NyQuil.”

“Now that bang, bang, bang…I let him hit it ‘cause he slang cocaine,” Niall continues, pointing to Zayn as if to cue him for the next line.

Rolling his eyes, Zayn gives in. “He tossed my salad like his name Romaine, and when we done I make him buy me Balmain.”

This sets them all into a fit of hysterical laughter throughout the rest of the song as they attempt to coordinate separate parts for each of them. The entire ride goes like that, all of them hyperactive now that they’re together in one car, and when they finally get to their destination, it feels like barely any time has passed.

Harry parks the car on the side of the road, right at the edge of the trees, where a couple of other vehicles are parked. They unload the trunk and follow a path that leads deeper into the trees, walking just until they arrive at a small river. The water looks deep enough to swim in, and a few people further upstream are doing just that, despite the slight chill in the air. They lay out a few blankets in the sand at the riverbank, setting the cooler on the ground. 

And then, because there’s clearly some conspiracy against Zayn, Liam begins to disrobe right in front of him.

Of course, it’s not _just_ Liam; Harry and Niall are stripping down as well, revealing pale legs and swim trunks, while Louis and Zayn stand and watch, mildly perplexed by the whole thing.

“You two aren’t going to swim?” Harry asks, disappointment in his voice. “If you’re scared, you should know that Liam here works as a certified lifeguard during the summer.”

“I didn’t know that,” Zayn replies, watching as Liam shrugs modestly. “Doesn’t really matter though, I can’t swim,” he admits sheepishly, cheeks growing warm as he tries not to stare at Liam’s shirtless body.

“Me neither,” Louis chimes in. “City kid thing.”

“Oh…” Liam says guiltily. “I’m sorry, I just assumed—”

“No, it’s fine. Me and Louis will keep each other company,” Zayn interrupts.

“Yeah, we’ll make sure no one steals the weed,” Louis jokes, holding up the joint he rolled earlier. Both Niall and Harry seem to take this at face value, each of them jumping into the 

water, but Liam lingers for a moment before he turns to join them.

—

All morning, it’s hard for Zayn to keep his eyes off Liam. 

Even when he isn’t doing anything particularly interesting, it’s like some magnetic force draws Zayn’s eyes in his direction. He and Louis are now a safe distance away from the commotion, watching from a shaded spot where they lean against a nearby tree. Every time Liam looks up, he seems to glance in their direction before turning his attention back to Niall, who’s splashing around in the water next to him.

“Liam is a wonderfully handsome young man, but I need you to stop staring,” Louis says. 

“Huh?” Zayn turns back to Louis, passing him the joint they’ve been sharing.

“Staring. Liam. Stop it.” 

“I’m not _staring_ ,” Zayn bites back, cheeks burning.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry. _Ogling_ would be a more fitting word.”

Zayn lets out an exasperated sigh. “I mean, _yeah_ , he’s cute. But he’s straight, so I mean…”

Louis pauses for a moment, blowing smoke into the air. “You really think he’s straight?”

Zayn frowns, looking back over at Louis. “You don’t?”

They’re both quiet as Liam’s head emerges from the water. He catches Zayn’s eye and grins before Niall splashes water at his face, which Liam immediately turns to retaliate.

“Nope,” Louis replies.

“Well, why not?”

“I dunno, he just sort of…acts like he’s into you, is all.”

“He’s just being nice because he knows about what happened to me last year. Besides, he was dating this girl from school up until pretty recently.”

“Yeah, and _you_ were kissing a girl from school pretty recently, if my memory serves me.” The comment earns him a dirty look, and after a few minutes, Louis speaks again. “Well, personally, I don’t think Liam is straight. And neither is his curly friend.” He points to Harry, who is sunbathing a few yards away, having gotten out of the water when his fingers started to prune.

Zayn raises an eyebrow. “How do you know?”

“Blew him in the back of your friend’s truck last night,” Louis responds smugly, watching with glee as Zayn’s jaw drops.

“ _Louis_ ,” he says finally, elbowing him.

“Yeah, yeah,” Louis grumbles. “You’ll be happy to know that he’s got a pretty big—”

“Don’t finish that sentence. I really can’t take you anywhere. What, are you gonna tell me Niall gave you a hand job in the bushes earlier, too?” Zayn says sarcastically.

Louis lets out a laugh. “Nah, he might be straight. Or maybe bisexual, I can’t quite tell. Heterosexuality is very passé these days. Say, maybe I ought to sleep with _all_ of your friends to prove how gay they are,” he teases, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Zayn rolls his eyes and snatches the joint from Louis’ fingers, taking a long hit.

They're on their second joint by the time lunch rolls around, the five of them sitting in a tight circle on one of the blankets. Harry passes out turkey and cheese sandwiches that he’d made this morning, and they buzz with conversation throughout the meal. Zayn doesn’t participate much, doesn’t have much to say, but he can’t help but notice that Liam doesn’t take the joint whenever it comes to him, instead plucking it from Harry’s fingers and passing it straight to Niall.

He doesn’t ask about it until they finish eating, when Niall and Harry head back into the water and Louis cautiously follows, sitting at the water’s edge and dipping his bare feet in. He’s in the middle of rolling a third joint — and he’s never really been as good at it as Louis, but he needs something to do with his hands while he’s talking to Liam — when he does.

“You don’t like smoking?” he wonders aloud. He doesn’t mean for it to come across as accusatory or judgmental, but it’s hard to keep his curiosity at bay.

Liam shrugs, looking down at the ground. “I’ve only tried it, like, twice. Didn’t even get high, just got a nasty cough.”

“Mm,” Zayn hums. “It’s kinda hard to inhale if you’ve never smoked before.”

“I do homework on Saturdays _and_ I don’t do drugs. I’m actually a really good influence,” Liam replies with a chuckle. His tone is light, and he’s clearly joking — but it’s true, and Zayn almost wants to agree.

“God, don’t let my mom hear you say that. She’ll probably try to convince you to move in,” he jokes. “My whole family’s in love with you, by the way. Safaa asks about you, like, every day. I’m pretty sure she’s got a crush on you.”

Liam just laughs at that, and Zayn stares for a second too long. He’s beautiful when he laughs, eyes squinting up, cheeks full. “I’m flattered, but she’s a bit young for me.”

“Just a bit, yeah.” He licks the rolling paper, and the joint comes out just a bit lumpier than Louis’ would, but it will certainly get the job done. Lighting the end of it, he takes the first hit. He’s already high from smoking all morning, feels another wave of calmness washing over him as he inhales the smoke.

It’s been ages since he’s smoked weed, so he holds his breath for a bit, relishing the familiar feeling of thick smoke in his lungs.

Liam’s watching, following the movement of Zayn’s lips when he exhales. “For the record, you look _way_ cooler doing that than I did,” he mutters.

Zayn smiles at that. “I dunno, I think you’d look pretty good with a joint in your mouth.” The words slip out before he has a chance to stop himself, and he immediately regrets them, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks.

“Yeah?” Liam asks, scooting closer to Zayn. He hesitates. “Let me see, then.”

And Zayn couldn’t say no if he wanted, hands the joint to Liam and watches as he wraps his lips around it. Zayn’s biting his own lip, unable to look away, consumed with the desire to feel those full, pink lips against his own.

That is, until Liam starts coughing and sputtering.

Zayn gives him a few firm pats on the back and snatches the joint from his hand. “A bit dangerous for you, bro,” he comments with a smirk. “The look worked up until the coughing, though.”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t inhale it correctly again. Gotta say I’m sort of disappointed,” Liam admits.

“Here, look at me,” Zayn says, a devilish look in his eye as he takes a long drag from the joint. His voice is pinched when he speaks again, bringing a hand to the back of Liam’s neck and pulling him closer. “I’m gonna exhale the smoke into your mouth. All you have to do is breathe like you normally would, okay?”

Liam nods, his head moving just slightly, and Zayn positions himself so that their lips are almost touching. It’s ridiculous, he knows, little more than an excuse to get closer to Liam. Slowly, he blows the smoke from his own mouth, and when Liam breathes in, he’s filling his lungs with it.

They hold that position for just a moment before Zayn pulls away. “Breathe out,” he says softly, and Liam obeys instantly. His eyes linger on Liam’s lips before he turns away, extinguishing the joint in the sand. The silence between them is tense, so Zayn tries to break it. “Probably shouldn’t have anymore. Wouldn't want you to let my mom down,” he teases.

Liam laughs, but his eyes don’t squint up the way they did earlier, and Zayn wonders if he’s crossed any boundaries with the boy.

But for the rest of the day, he continues to act normally around him, so Zayn tries his best not to worry about it.

—

The ride back is quiet.

Harry forgoes the Nicki Minaj this time in favor of an indie station. His wet hair is done up in a small ponytail, and somehow he knows all the words to every song that comes on the radio, singing along under his breath as he drives.

Niall has taken his rightful seat next to him, and Zayn is still squished in the middle seat, but Liam’s thigh is warm against his own and he can’t exactly complain about being forced to sit so close to him.

 _Sort of sickening, really,_ he thinks. It’s embarrassingly juvenile, being this excited at the smallest touch, but he’s working on it. He tries to talk himself out of his crush, tries to find flaws in Liam, repeats them in his head like a mantra.

_He has a stupid birthmark on his neck. My mom probably likes him more than she likes me. He has made it abundantly clear that he has no romantic interest in me._

It doesn’t help that his brain immediately counters that with thoughts of kissing his birthmark, of introducing Liam to his family as his boyfriend. He glances over at Liam, who is staring out the window pensively, and wonders what he’s thinking of, wonders if there’s even the slightest chance that he’s thinking of Zayn…

Zayn turns away, shaking the thought from his mind. _Sickening._

It’s late in the afternoon by the time they get back, with both of Zayn’s parents inviting Louis to stay for dinner before he drives back into the city. They force him to take leftovers, sending him out with multiple tupperware containers and telling him to visit again soon, while Zayn helps him to carry his things to the car.

He tosses a bag into the trunk before slamming it closed and walking over to lean against the side of the car next to Louis. “It’s not so bad out here,” the other boy concludes.

“You’ve only been here for a weekend,” Zayn retorts.

“Well, you’ve got some cool new friends. I mean, you know, not as cool as your _old_ friends, but they’re decent.”

“They’re not bad, yeah.”

They’re silent for a moment before Louis speaks again. “Zayn?”

“Hm?”

“Be careful, all right?”

Zayn turns his head to look at Louis. “About what?”

And Louis lets out a long sigh, slinging an arm around Zayn’s shoulders. “Every time you look at Liam, all I see is the heart eyes emoji. And I like the kid, don’t get me wrong, but I just want to make sure you’re not getting in over your head. You remember what happened last time—”

“No need to remind me.”

Louis pauses before smacking a wet kiss onto Zayn’s cheek. “Take care of yourself, Malik.”

“Ew,” Zayn mutters, pulling away from Louis to wipe slobber from his face. “If you’re gonna do that, you need to use less spit.”

And Louis smirks as he opens his car door, raising an eyebrow. “That’s not what your curly friend said,” he replies, climbing into the car.

“Ugh. Good riddance,” Zayn snorts.

But he waves as Louis drives away, watching his car grow smaller in the darkness until its tail lights disappear.

—

“Have you all started on your college applications? This whole personal statement thing is driving me crazy. Like, how am I supposed to summarize myself in an essay?” Niall complains at lunch one day.

As the school year progresses, college application deadlines loom in the distance, but Liam hasn’t thought much about that.

“I’ll help you write yours if you help me write mine,” Harry says between forkfuls of macaroni and cheese.

“Deal,” Niall agrees. They continue to talk about college applications, with Zayn speaking up every now and then to talk about his own essay, or about how he’s got to get transcripts from his old school, but Liam tunes it out.

He keeps his eyes on his history notes, trying to study for a quiz that’s coming up later that day. He’s not ashamed of the fact that he won’t be able to go off to school like his friends, but he wishes he could stop feeling so jealous every time the subject comes up. 

_What’s this place going to be like once they all leave?_ he wonders, thinking back to when each of his sisters moved away. The house is quieter now, and it seems like his parents have grown older since Ruth left. But the daily routines of the Payne household haven’t changed much — between work, school, and family dinners, they’re just as lively as ever.

Still, he talks to each of them less and less. They call when they can, visit for holidays, but Liam always misses them the minute they leave again.

Looking around at his little group of friends, he wonders if that’s what it will be like for them, only seeing each other when they return for summer vacation and Christmas, growing apart as the years go by. It’s a scary thought — _what if I never escape this town, what if I’m the only one left behind_ — and he tries to push it from his mind.

At one point, in the midst of nervous chatter about SAT and ACT scores, Liam feels something nudging his foot. Looking up, he makes eye contact with Zayn, who gives him a nervous smile. “You seem very invested in Ancient Rome right now,” he says quietly. The other boys, still preoccupied by their own conversation, don’t seem to hear him, and his gaze softens as he speaks again. “Or maybe just invested in ignoring the present conversation.”

Liam wonders whether he’s bad at hiding his feelings or if Zayn just picks up on them better than the others. He shuts his notebook, glancing over at Harry and Niall before turning back to Zayn. “I’m not as worried about the whole application process as they are.”

Zayn tilts his head to the side. “You have a funny way of showing it. Every time this topic comes up, you look like you’re going to be sick. I mean that in the nicest way possible, of course.”

Shrugging, Liam traces a finger over the cover of his notebook, avoiding Zayn’s gaze. “I think they’re just overreacting, is all.”

Zayn shrugs too, taking a bite of the cookie he’d bought from the cafeteria. “Maybe,” he mutters. He looks like he wants to say something else, but Niall catches his eye and starts asking him about an art project that they’re supposed to turn in next week.

And that’s how it goes for a while, with Liam dodging college questions whenever they come up, trying to focus on the positive. He’s got them for now, and he’ll just have to be happy with that.

—

A few weeks pass, with the weather cooling down and the trees shedding leaves, and the biggest news in town is the upcoming county fair. Liam doesn’t plan on going this year, since it reminds him too much of going with Sophia the year before, but he’s surprised when Zayn brings it up on the ride to school one day.

There’s an advertisement on the radio for it, since it’s coming up in just a few days, and Zayn turns in his seat to look at Liam when the commercial ends. “Haven’t been to one of those since I was a kid,” he admits. “Street festivals and things, yeah, but the county fair was always a little too far away for me to bother checking it out. Is there really going to be a rooster call contest? Perrie mentioned something about it in class the other day, made it sound like there’s a bunch of weird stuff like that, but I wasn’t sure if she was just messing with me.”

Liam feels a twinge of something in his gut at the mention of Perrie’s name, but laughs it off. “She wasn’t lying. There’s probably also going to be at least one alpaca. And some of those little ponies that kids ride on.”

“Do you think there’s an age limit on those? She invited me to tag along with her and a couple of other people, but I think I only want to go if I can ride a pony,” Zayn continues. 

“Not sure about the age limit,” Liam states.

“Huh. Well, in that case, I dunno if it’s worth going.” Zayn turns to look out the window again, humming along to the song on the radio.

“Why don’t you come to the fair with me instead?” Liam blurts out. "I mean, you know. If you want to. I’ll even pay for you to ride on the pony, if you want.”

Zayn doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looks at Liam, eyes him for a moment like he’s trying to figure him out. “Okay,” he agrees finally.

“Um. Cool,” Liam coughs. “It’ll be fun.”

—

Loki stares at Liam as he gets dressed.

Maybe he’s picking up on the nervous energy radiating off of him, but the dog seems to be following him through the house, constantly underfoot. It’s out of character for him, and Liam has several close calls where he almost trips over him.

When he hears a loud _yelp_ after accidentally stepping on a paw, he immediately goes to apologize, covering Loki’s furry face in kisses. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “Please don’t hate me.” The dog responds to this by licking his face a few times, and although he is a bit more cautious when he follows Liam to the other side of the bedroom, his tail is wagging.

The thing is, Liam isn’t sure how he got here.

The invitation to the county fair was completely spontaneous. He wants to call it _word vomit_ , can’t really explain why he is so opposed to the idea of Zayn experiencing the county fair with Perrie.

But the two of them barely know each other, and Liam thinks that if Zayn is going to the stupid county fair, he should at least go with a _friend._ Not to mention how awkward it would be after their little makeout session. Maybe Perrie just wanted to finish what they’d started.

Which really isn’t Liam’s business, except that he thinks Zayn is exclusively attracted to men. The other boy has never said it in exactly those words, but he seems to allude to it every now and then.

Liam pulls a thick red sweater over his head, then walks into the bathroom to check himself out in the mirror. He thinks he looks good, and Loki seems to agree, if his wagging tail is any indication. He takes a deep breath, runs a hand through his hair, and pulls out his phone.

 _be over in 5,_ he texts to Zayn.

He hasn’t spent very much time alone with Zayn after they kissed, with Harry and Niall usually acting as buffers. They have their car rides together, but those only last for about ten minutes at a time, and Liam is jittery at the thought of spending an extended amount of time alone with Zayn. He almost expects Zayn to act the way he did last time — icy and distant, visibly uncomfortable — but when he pulls up to his house, the other boy smiles pleasantly from the front step.

He’s sitting down, wearing a leather jacket that hangs loosely from his shoulders, making him look smaller than usual. After Zayn climbs into the truck, he turns to Liam. “What’s up?”

Liam shrugs, grinning back at him. “I’ve been looking forward to getting some cotton candy since I woke up this morning.”

“I’m more excited about the funnel cake, myself,” Zayn says.

It’s dusk when they arrive, and they purchase their tickets and plunge into the growing crowd of people that have come from the surrounding towns. The air is thick with the scent of deep-fried food, with vendors lining the main path. A handful of small rides are set up, the most notable being a large Ferris wheel on the opposite side of the fairgrounds, and there are bright flashing lights coming from various booths.

“What do you want to do first?” Liam asks.

Zayn shrugs. “Dunno. We could just walk around?”

Liam nods in agreement, and the two of them make their way down the path, walking in silence until Zayn stops in his tracks in front of one of the booths.

When Liam follows his gaze, he sees a plastic tank of goldfish sitting on the counter of the booth. It’s one of those rigged carnival ring toss games, and the man working there is grinning when he notices the two of them.

“Admiring the fish?” he asks.

“No,” Zayn says bluntly. “There’s, like, way too many of them in that tank. You know they need more room than that, right?”

Liam almost expects the employee to ask them to leave, but he just shrugs.

“Not my problem. But if it matters that much to you, every time you get a ring to land on one of those bottles, you get to free one fish. It’s only a dollar for three attempts. You oughta give it a try, you look like the athletic type.”

Zayn snorts at that, but pulls a crumpled dollar bill from his pocket and places it on the counter in front of him. “Fine.”

The man hands Zayn three rings, which Zayn holds up to Liam. “A little luck, please?”

Liam gives him a puzzled look. “What?”

“You know, like in Vegas, you get someone to blow on the dice before you roll them.”

So Liam gives in, blows a puff of air onto the rings before Zayn starts to position himself for the ring toss. It would be embarrassing to watch were it not so endearing; the first ring goes off to the side of the booth, not even hitting a single bottle, while the second and third bounce tragically to the ground.

Zayn is already reaching into his pocket for another dollar, but Liam swats his arm away. “Let me try?” he asks, glancing at the fish tank.

They do look rather miserable, scales dull even under the neon lights of the fair, swimming around in a tank full of their own waste. He thinks he spots one that’s floating with its belly up, but he tries to tell himself that it’s just resting.

“Yeah?” Zayn smiles. “Okay.”

Liam hands the employee a dollar and takes his own rings. The first one is close — it touches the rim of a bottle, nearly falls right into place — but it bounces before falling to the ground. The second one is an overshot, nearly hitting the man behind the booth.

But Zayn lets out a little cheer when the final ring lands neatly around a bottle, and Liam can’t help but smile at the other boy’s excitement.

“Poor little fish,” Zayn mutters as the employee hands him a plastic bag full of water with a lethargic goldfish swimming around inside. He admires his new pet for a few seconds before looking back up at Liam, his eyes wide. “Um. I think he misses his brothers and sisters.”

So Liam pulls out a couple more dollars, and eventually manages to get three more fish. He insists that Zayn take all of them, and the employee agrees to put all four into one slightly larger bag.

“We’ll get you out of here soon enough,” Zayn coos to the fish.

The sight is — well, Liam can’t think of a word that’s more appropriate than _adorable_ , watching as Zayn cups a protective hand around the bag while they walk through a throng of people. It’s silly; most of the fish are still crammed into that tank, but Zayn might as well have saved all of them, with how broad the grin on his face is when he looks at them.

At one point, he looks up at Liam, that grin still spread across his face, eyes sparkling like they do when he’s excited. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

And Liam smiles back, brings a hand to rub the nape of his neck, suddenly shy. For once, he doesn’t know the right thing to say, instead giving a light shrug. “Yeah. No problem,” he manages.

—

They end up buying cotton candy _and_ funnel cake, sugar lingering on their tongues as they make their way across the fairgrounds. Liam could take a nap, he thinks, but the sugar seems to have the opposite effect on Zayn, who is suddenly fidgety and eager to explore more of the fair.

“I think the ponies are over there,” Liam says, nodding toward a small path that leads out to a fenced area. 

“Ferris wheel first?” Zayn asks, eyeing the ride. They’re only a few yards away from it, and it appears to have the longest line of the fair. “It’s just up there.”

Liam shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “The line is kind of long.”

“Oh. Well, we don’t have to.” Zayn starts to turn toward the pony pen, but Liam grabs him by the arm to stop him.

“I mean, if you really _want_ to get on the Ferris wheel, we should—”

“But if you _don’t_ want to…”

“I do want to. The line is just long. It’ll go by quickly. Good company, and all that.”

Zayn looks at him for a minute. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” Liam responds instantly, convincing himself as much as he’s convincing Zayn.

They get in line, and Liam almost immediately regrets the decision as he stares up at the Ferris wheel. It’s too high up — impossibly high up. _Stupid_ , he berates himself. _Should’ve just gone to look at the ponies._

He doesn’t want to admit to Zayn that he’s afraid of heights, doesn’t want to look weak or childish in front of him. He likes being in control too much, likes to keep his fears close to his chest.

And usually it’s easy for him to pretend that he’s fearless, that he’s a blank slate; sure, other people might openly display their emotions, but not Liam.

They reach the front of the line, with Zayn taking a seat almost immediately, cradling his goldfish in his hands. “Come on, Li,” he says, but Liam is frozen in place, feet glued to the ground. He’s looking at that metal deathtrap and thinking, _There’s no fucking way I’m getting on that thing._

The ride attendant looks bored by the whole exchange. “Are you getting on or what?” she asks.

Liam takes a deep breath and goes to sit next to Zayn, and the ride attendant lowers the safety bar over them both. His palms are slick with sweat when he goes to grip the bar tightly, knuckles white.

“Are you feeling okay?" Zayn asks. “You look like you’re gonna be sick. Too much sugar?”

But Liam shakes his head. “I’m fine.” His voice cracks when he speaks, and Zayn raises a skeptical eyebrow.

The ride begins to move, and Liam feels their seat rocking back and forth as they rise — higher, higher, higher still into the air. He’s staring directly ahead, trying to focus on the thicket of trees that surround the fairgrounds, but they’re only growing smaller as they get further from the ground.

Zayn is talking, he realizes, but he doesn’t hear a word that comes out of the other boy’s mouth as he squeezes his eyes shut.

“ _Liam._ ”

There’s a firm hand on his shoulder. 

“Are you afraid of heights or something?”

“I’m not _afraid of heights or something_ , I just think it’s stupid that we’re on this gigantic metal torture device that they put together in, what, a _day_? How is this ride supposed to be safe when they put it up so quickly? It takes ages to build a ride at an amusement park, but I’m supposed to feel okay sitting on this stupid fucking Ferris wheel—”

“I’m going to take that as a _yes_ ,” Zayn interrupts. “Do you think you’ll be okay for a couple more minutes? We’re about halfway done with the ride, I think.”

Liam opens one eye and immediately realizes it was a mistake.

They’re at the top of the Ferris wheel, the fairgrounds shrunken beneath them. The lights of the vendors and booths all blend together into one neon blur, the people are ant-sized, and his heart is pounding so hard that it might crack his ribcage. He shuts both eyes again, taking a shaky breath.

Zayn places a soothing hand over Liam’s on the safety bar, his thumb rubbing circles over his skin. “It’s all right. It’s almost over. Just — breathe, okay?”

He tries to do that, but the air in his lungs feels shallow.

“Deep breaths, babe.” Zayn’s voice is gentle, his hand soft. “Come on, Liam — inhale.”

So Liam inhales.

“Exhale.”

And he exhales.

It doesn’t do much, doesn’t stop his heart from pounding, doesn’t stop his palms from sweating. But Zayn keeps repeating the two words — _inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale —_ and he tries to ground himself with it, tries to let Zayn’s voice bring him down.

He doesn’t stop, either. He repeats it over and over, keeps his hand on Liam’s the whole time, and for a moment Liam thinks he might be okay with the whole thing, that he might be able to make it to the bottom. 

“Liam. The ride’s over.”

Liam opens his eyes and lets out a long sigh of relief while Zayn pushes the safety bar up and gets out of the seat, holding out a hand to help Liam up. He’s shaking, he realizes as he stands, and his legs feel wobbly beneath him as they retreat into the crowd again, but the security of the earth beneath his feet calms him down.

Solid ground to stand on — Liam’s always needed that, always needed that support underneath him, that constant reminder that he is really _here_ , that he is holding on.

Zayn doesn’t say anything to him as they walk toward the pony pen, not until they’re right in front of it. He turns and looks Liam right in the eye before saying, “I think you need a pony ride more than I do.”

Liam suppresses a yawn, adrenaline wearing off. “I need to stay on solid ground for a bit,” he admits, pausing for a beat before adding, “And thank you, by the way, for…”

He trails off. _For holding my hand? For talking me through the Ferris wheel like I’m a child?_

But Zayn just nods, pushing up one of his sleeves to reveal a scar. “Seemed like you needed a friend up there,” he mumbles.

“I thought you didn’t want to make friends here,” Liam teases.

Zayn considers this for a moment. “I didn’t,” he admits. “But then I met you.” He loops an arm through Liam’s timidly, pulling him aside to a grassy area. “C’mon, let’s sit down for a bit. You need some rest.”

“Being scared shitless really tires me out.”

They both laugh at that, sitting cross-legged in the grass as kids line up to ride the miniature ponies, and Liam gets lost in all of it — the children’s excited squeals, the way Zayn keeps looking over to check on him, the smell of freshly mown grass and fried food — until his phone buzzes in his pocket.

He frowns as he pulls it out, wondering if his parents are checking up on him, but then he sees Sophia’s name popping up. His immediate reaction is confusion, and his heart is pounding again when he reads the message.

_hey li, i’m going for a run tomorrow at the park…wanna join? i’ll buy you lunch! :)_

“Is something wrong?” Zayn asks, glancing over and biting his bottom lip.

Liam does his best to hide the screen from Zayn without being too obvious, a fake smile spreading across his face. “Just my mom,” he lies, pocketing the device without sending a response.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was my favorite chapter to write so far so I hope you enjoy it! Expect the next chapter sometime next weekend!

“An anti-homecoming party?” Zayn repeats, blinking at Perrie.

She raises her eyebrows and grins, slinging her backpack over one shoulder. “Yeah. The school administration has all these stupid rules about dress length and cleavage and how you can dance, blah, blah…plus they kick you out if they think you’ve been drinking or anything like that. So every year, some spectacularly cool person throws an _anti-homecoming_ where you can wear whatever you want, dance however you want, and drink as much alcohol as you can get your underage hands on. Think _anti-prom lite_.”

“Anti-prom?”

She sighs, shaking her head. “Never mind, no need to get hung up on the details. It’s just an excuse to have a party, really.”

“So this year you’re throwing it?” he asks as they step out into the hallway together. History class has just ended, and the two of them have recently been assigned seats next to each other. At first it was awkward, but after a few weeks they’ve moved past their encounter from Sophia’s party, and Zayn has grown to enjoy her company. It doesn’t compare to the way he enjoys being with Liam, of course — there aren’t any butterflies in his stomach, and he can’t pretend to feel any sort of attraction toward her — but she’s got a fun sense of humor and always makes him laugh with the comments she mutters under her breath while the teacher lectures.

She reminds him a bit of Louis in that sense, a mischievous glint in her eye that would rival his.

“Yep. And bring your friends! Last year, Harry and Niall started a conga line, so they’re cool in my book.”

Zayn laughs at that. “And Liam?” he asks.

Perrie frowns. “Last year, he went to the _actual_ homecoming dance with Sophia. Pretty lame, but he’s a cool guy, so bring him along if you can.”

Zayn feels a twinge of jealousy at the mention of Sophia’s name, but manages to conceal it. “Right. Well, I’ll let them know about it.”

“Awesome! Thanks, love,” Perrie says.

They go their separate ways, heading off to their next classes, and Zayn finds himself wondering if Liam is going to find another girl to go to homecoming with this year.

 _It’s none of my business,_ he thinks as he walks through the hallway, trying to ignore the bitter taste in his mouth.

—

“I missed this,” Sophia says.

Liam looks up from his textbook. They’re sitting next to each other at her dining room table, studying for an upcoming physics test. Neither of her parents are home, and the house is quiet except for occasional snippets of conversation from each of them.

Since they went on that run last week, they’ve gotten back into the habit of talking to each other again. Mostly, they’ve been communicating via text message, but this is the second time Liam’s come over to do homework with her after school.

“Me too,” he admits, biting back a smile.

He hasn’t really told anyone about this — how could he? He knows exactly how Harry and Niall would react, knows they would give him a lot of shit for it. _She broke your heart_ , they’d say. _You’re just going to get hurt again._

But this is perfectly innocent; after all, they’ve both moved on, and it’s not like they’re on a date or anything.

Sophia’s leg brushes against his under the table. 

Liam thinks back to the way he’d felt when he got off that dreadful Ferris wheel — how comforting it was to feel the familiarity of the earth beneath him after being up in the air, out of his element — and he feels it again here with Sophia, her leg touching his and reminding them of how they used to be.

“Liam?”

He looks over at her again, and their eyes meet. She is beautiful, he thinks — long, dark lashes framing green eyes — and the way she looks at him now reminds him of before, and it feels like no time has passed at all, like the breakup and the summer that followed never happened.

“Yeah?” he breathes.

“Do you have a date to the dance yet?”

He blinks. “The dance?”

“The homecoming dance,” she clarifies.

“Oh.” Liam shifts in his seat. “Um, no. Not yet.”

She gives a shy smile, tucks a lock of hair behind her ear. “Me neither. I was thinking…maybe we should go together. You know, as friends. For old times’ sake.”

He doesn’t answer at first, doesn’t know what to say.

“I’m sorry if that’s inconsiderate of me, I know the breakup was hard on you—” she starts.

“No, it’s — it’s fine. You weren’t happy.” Liam has to swallow the bitter words that threaten to come up, has to fight the urge to revisit the painful memories.

She looks down at her textbook, biting her bottom lip, guilt radiating from her. “I’m sorry. Forget I said anything.”

And Liam can hear the disappointment in her voice, can feel his own heart sinking, so he speaks up. “No. You’re right. We should go to the dance together. For old times’ sake.” He musters a genuine smile, placing his hand over hers. 

It feels familiar when their eyes meet again and she beams back at him.

—

“Okay, so here’s what I’m thinking. We go to the homecoming game on Friday, and then we skip the dance on Saturday to go to Perrie’s party,” Niall says.

“Perrie’s having a party?” Liam asks.

Zayn glances over at him, eyebrows furrowed. “Yeah. I told everyone at lunch yesterday, remember?”

“Oh. Sorry, I’ve been out of it lately.”

“I’ll say,” Harry chimes in. “You didn’t answer any of my texts yesterday after school. What was that about?”

“I was catching up with some schoolwork,” Liam mutters, taking a bite of his sandwich.

“Excuses, excuses,” Harry grumbles.

“Hey, you two can have your lover’s spat anytime. We’ve got homecoming weekend plans to solidify,” Niall cuts in.

“Fine, okay, we’ll go to the game. We’ll skip the dance. We’ll go to Perrie’s party,” Harry agrees.

“Perrie said we could stay at her place. Her parents are out of town all weekend, and she told me she will personally fight anyone who tries to get behind the wheel after drinking,” Zayn says.

Niall chuckles at that. “Liam? Are you in?”

Liam fakes a smile — he’s good at that, he knows he is, manages to make it look real — and nods. “Sounds fun.”

—

“I’ve never even been to a high school football game,” Zayn admits. “Never cared much about them at my old school.”

He’s sitting in the passenger side of Harry’s car, and for some reason death metal is playing from the speakers. He’s learned not to question Harry’s music taste.

“Um, to be honest, you’re not missing out on much. They have those gross nachos with the weird fake cheese stuff. I love those. Oh, yeah, and dudes in a lot of padding pummeling each other…cheerleaders…oh, you’ll get to learn our fight song. You might see Niall have an aneurysm if we lose. That’s about it.”

Zayn nods, looking out the window. “Thanks for giving me a ride, by the way. Liam was being really weird about the whole thing — said he was going to be late, or something? I guess he’s just tired of driving me around.”

“He’s been a bit strange lately, yeah,” Harry agrees, frowning over the steering wheel. “And no worries. I like driving.”

The rest of the drive is quiet except for the sounds of angry death metal. It’s an easy silence, and Zayn likes that about Harry. He’s not difficult to be around, won’t pry or ask questions when you don’t want him to, won’t force small talk.

It’s a stark contrast from the silences he’s had with Liam lately. The other boy has been distant, quiet, like he’s got a lot on his mind. Whenever Zayn tries to get him to talk about it, Liam changes the direction of the conversation, redirects it so that they’re talking about Zayn instead. It’s remarkable; Zayn doesn’t even notice that he’s doing it until it’s too late, and eventually he just gave up on trying to get an honest answer.

By the time they arrive, the school parking lot is crammed with cars. Zayn can tell immediately that it’s not just the normal student body and faculty, and he remembers Liam mentioning that high school football is a big deal here. 

“Niall’s already in the stadium, he’s got some seats saved for us,” Harry says, glancing at his phone as the two of them walk to the stadium. He’s frowning again as he reads another text message. “Apparently Liam’s already there?”

“But he said he was running late,” Zayn replies.

“Yeah. I guess there was a change of plans…” Harry trails off.

When they reach the stadium, they spot Niall immediately. He’s wearing a bright orange and white shirt — their school colors — and flailing his arms wildly to catch their attention. Liam is nowhere to be found, but there’s a girl on the bleachers next to Niall.

“What the hell is she doing here?” Harry says under his breath. He gives Niall a look, and Niall responds with a shrug from his spot on the bleachers.

Zayn hasn’t ever met her, but he’s seen her around school, and of course he remembers going to her party last month. He feels a mixture of confusion and jealousy stirring within him, following Harry as they walk up the bleachers to get to Niall.

“Where’s Liam?” Harry asks immediately.

“Concession stand,” Niall responds. “Here, I saved seats for you guys.”

Harry takes a seat next to Niall, and Zayn pushes past the two of them to sit next to the girl. There’s an empty space between them, presumably where Liam had been sitting earlier.

She turns to Zayn and smiles, extending a manicured hand. “Hi, I don’t think we’ve met yet? I’m Sophia.”

“I know,” Zayn blurts out. He coughs awkwardly. “I mean, um. I’ve seen you around school.” 

Her hand is still hanging in the air, so he extends his own to give her a weak handshake, just as Liam is walking up the bleachers holding two hot dogs. He looks from Sophia to Zayn, guilt flashing in his eyes before he manages to compose his facial expression.

An easy smile tugs at the corners of his mouth.

Zayn hates how good he is at that.

“I’m glad to see you’ve already gotten introductions out of the way,” Liam says, taking a seat between them. He hands one of the hot dogs to Sophia, then starts to eat his own, and Zayn can’t help but stare at him for a minute. Sophia leans over and whispers something in his ear, leading both of them to giggle in response.

His stomach turns, and he finds himself fidgeting in his seat. He doesn’t think he can stand to see this, doesn’t understand why Liam would do this. Didn’t she break his heart? Wasn’t she the one who had walked away, who had left Liam to pick up the pieces?

She wasn’t the one on the Ferris wheel with Liam. She wasn’t the one who’d kept him breathing, she wasn’t the one who held his hand. It hurts — it cuts deeper than he would’ve thought, makes it hard for Zayn to keep a facade of calmness. He wants to get out of here, wants to go back to the county fair, wants to go back to when Liam was helping him win goldfish at that stupid ring toss booth.

Have they been dating this whole time? Did Liam run off to her after Zayn kissed him, use her lips to wash away the taste of his?

“Do you want to switch seats?” Harry asks, leaning forward so that he can talk to Zayn over Niall.“There’s a really short girl behind me, and I don’t want to block her view.” 

Zayn glances to the row behind them, noticing that there isn’t anyone seated directly behind Harry, but he isn’t about to spend the entire game sitting next to Liam and Sophia. He thinks moving might help to ease the sick feeling in his stomach, so he nods and stands up to move over to Niall’s other side.

Liam doesn’t seem to notice, too absorbed in whatever Sophia is saying to him.

The game starts, and Niall might be the most enthusiastic person in the stands. He curses loudly every time the referee makes a call that goes against their team, cheers excitedly every time a player in an orange jersey scores. His excitement is contagious, and Zayn even lets out a few happy yells. Sitting on the end makes it easier to ignore Liam, and he tries to focus on the players as they pummel into each other. It’s still hard to keep his eyes from wandering over — he doesn’t miss the small movement when Liam wraps an arm around Sophia’s shoulders.

They score again just before half-time rolls around, and Niall pulls Zayn into a tight hug. Their team is ahead with a solid lead, and Niall can’t stop grinning, the tip of his nose red from the chilly autumn air.

Zayn glances over to Liam and Sophia. Her head rests on his shoulder, and he says something to her that makes her grin widely.

“I’m gonna go get a snack,” Zayn says suddenly, standing up. He races down the bleachers, hands shoved into his pockets. 

He doesn’t go to the concession stand, instead sneaks away to smoke a cigarette. _Fucking horrible,_ he thinks to himself. 

It feels worse than when Dylan had pulled away from him, worse than when he’d called him every vile name in the book, worse than when his friends would shove him around in the parking lot after school.

He feels nauseous, he’s fighting back tears, and the only thing he can think to do is pull out his cell phone to call his mother.

“Hi, Zayn,” she answers cautiously. “How’s the football game?”

“Can you come pick me up?”

There’s silence on the other line for a moment. “Of course, sunshine. Is something wrong?”

“Please just pick me up.”

Another pause. “Okay. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

“Thank you,” he says softly before ending the call.

—

“What time should we head over to the party tomorrow night?” Niall asks.

“Party?” Sophia echoes. “What party?”

“Perrie’s throwing an anti-homecoming party,” Harry replies. “I was thinking we could get there around ten. Is that cool with you, Li?”

Liam looks over at Sophia, pressing his lips into a tight smile. “Um…slight change of plans. Sophia and I talked about it and, um…well, we’re actually going to the dance instead.” He punctuates that by giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze.

Harry and Niall stare at him incredulously.

“Oh,” Niall says finally, breaking the silence. “So, were you planning on telling us about this, or…?”

“Niall,” Harry reprimands, elbowing him.

There’s another long silence.

And that’s when Zayn returns, his face hardened. He’s been like this for the entire evening — distant, averting his gaze whenever Liam looks at him. “What’s wrong?” Zayn asks, picking up on the awkwardness of the situation.

“Liam is ditching us to go to the actual homecoming dance,” Niall answers, rolling his eyes.

Zayn looks from Sophia to Liam, realization dawning over him. “His loss,” he replies gruffly, shrugging. “Anyway, I just came up to say goodbye. I’m not feeling too great, so um…my mom’s on her way to pick me up.”

Guilt bubbles up in Liam’s stomach when he sees the hurt in his eyes. He knows it’s his fault, knows that he’s the one that’s making him take off. “Zayn—” he starts, wanting to say something to make it better.

“See you later,” Zayn cuts him off, turning his back to them and walking away.

Sophia doesn’t know the full extent of the situation, but the tension between Liam, Harry, and Niall is thick in the air. She glances between them, pulling away from Liam’s embrace to stand up. “I’m going to head to the bathroom. I’ll be right back,” she says sweetly, giving Liam a pointed look. Her expression says _fix this,_ like she expects Liam to be able to talk his way out of pissing off his best friends.

By the time she’s gone, it’s clear that she’s underestimating Harry and Niall’s ability to hold a grudge.

“Are you _fucking_ kidding me?” Niall explodes. “So, what, you go sneaking around with your ex when we’re not looking, like that’s not bad enough — even though she fucking destroyed you this summer — and then you just cancel our plans? You weren’t planning on saying _anything_ about it? You were just going to let us continue pretending that we were all going to that stupid party together—”

“Why would you even bring her here?” Harry interrupts. Unlike Niall, his voice is calm, unwavering. If Liam didn’t know him better, then he wouldn’t even realize that this is a sign of his anger. “You should’ve given us some warning at least. You saw how Zayn was acting—”

“The kid is in love with you,” Niall cuts in.

Liam looks at Harry, anger washing over him. “Did you tell him?”

“I didn’t have to tell him, Liam. It’s fucking obvious.”

Niall looks at Harry, confusion on his face. “Tell me what?”

Rolling his eyes, Harry responds, “Liam and Zayn kissed.”

“ _What_?”

“On their little study date.”

“It wasn’t a study _date_ , Harry. Look, just because Zayn has feelings for me, that doesn’t mean I have to walk on eggshells around him. Sophia and I have been talking again — as _friends_. We’re not dating,” Liam says defensively. “I didn’t intend to hurt Zayn. I wouldn’t do that, and you both know it.”

“You were quite cozy to be _friends_ , and I find it hard to believe that you didn’t see this coming,” Harry bites back, tone still even.

Liam raises his chin indignantly. They’re being unfair toward him — he’s never made it out like he had feelings for Zayn. He’s been a friend to him, and that’s all. It’s not his fault if other people have read into his actions the wrong way. “If Zayn got the wrong idea, then I’m sorry, but—”

“Let me spare you the shame of saying something stupid. You’re being an asshole. And this isn’t just about Zayn — it’s about _you_. We were the ones who picked up the pieces last time that she broke your heart, and now you’re just going to let her waltz back into your life like nothing happened?” Niall says harshly.

Harry has a softer approach, his voice low when he speaks. “You need to fix this, Liam.” 

“I don’t have to fix anything,” Liam says coldly. _I’m not doing anything wrong,_ he convinces himself.

Harry lets out a heavy sigh, shaking his head. “Well, I’m not going to sit here and watch you fall apart again. And I don’t want to see you treat Zayn like shit, either. So I’m heading home.” He stands up, zipping his jacket.

Niall is glaring at Liam, standing up next to Harry. “I’m leaving, too. Have fun at the dance.”

Liam doesn’t respond to that, slumping in his seat as the two of them walk away. _I’m not doing anything wrong,_ he repeats to himself. He doesn’t owe anything to Zayn, or to Harry, or to Niall. 

_I’m not doing anything wrong._

—

Zayn’s mom doesn’t press him for details.

He lies and says he’s got a stomachache when she asks what’s wrong, and then she lets him fume silently.

When they get home, he locks himself in his room, blasting some loud music. He’s sprawled out in his bed, staring at the ceiling, eyes tracing over the peeling paint. _Stupid_ , he berates himself. _I was stupid for falling in love with him._

Did he really think Liam could ever return his feelings?

He doesn’t know how long he lies there, loses track of time in the pulsing beat of the music.

Eventually, there’s a gentle knock on his door.

“I said I’m fine, Mom,” he calls out, covering his eyes with his arm.

“It’s not Mom, it’s me,” says Waliyha from the other side of the door. “Some kid named Harry wants to talk to you, Mom needs to know if you want him to come up here.”

Zayn lets out a heavy sigh. “Yeah, okay.”

“He says it’s fine!” Waliyha calls down the stairs. He hears her footsteps retreating, and a few minutes later, Harry is walking into the room.

“Er, hi,” Harry says, closing the door behind him.

Zayn sits up in his bed, his expression wary. “Hi.” He gestures to the space next to him on the bed. “Do you want to sit down?”

Harry sits on the bed, quiet for a moment before opening his mouth to speak. “For the record, Niall and I are your friends as much as we’re his.” He pauses, reaching out to place a gentle hand on Zayn’s shoulder. “And I think he’s being a real fuckface about this whole thing.”

Zayn bites his bottom lip. “Thanks.”

“I know you have feelings for him. I hope that’s not overstepping any boundaries.”

Staring down at his hands, Zayn shrugs in response. He doesn’t know what to say to that, wonders if his infatuation is apparent to everyone around him.

“And I — well, I really thought he felt the same way about you, up until tonight. I guess I was wrong. Either that, or he’s running from his feelings…hence the fuckface behavior,” Harry continues.

Again unsure of what to say, Zayn just nods. He can’t let himself believe that, can’t attach to that tiny sliver of hope just to be hurt again. “Louis would tell you that I’m just really, really good at falling for straight guys.”

Harry squeezes his shoulder. “Are you still up for the party tomorrow?” he asks.

“I’m up for having some fun without worrying about this shit, yeah,” Zayn says quietly.

Harry smiles broadly at that. “Good. I’ll pick you up tomorrow night around ten. I’ll text you when I’m on my way, okay?”

Zayn nods. They sit in silence for a couple of minutes before Harry finally says goodnight, and Zayn can hear him complimenting his parents on their interior decorating skills before the front door closes.

—

Liam swallows the lump in his throat as he puts a corsage on Sophia’s wrist.

_Snap._

Her mother is taking a photo of the moment. Sophia pins a boutonniere to his suit jacket.

_Snap._

He’s wearing a rented suit with a blue tie to match Sophia’s dress. They’re going to dinner first, with a few of Sophia’s friends and their dates, and then they’re heading over to the dance. It’s eerily similar to homecoming last year, right down to the restaurant they’re eating at.

“Let me get one more photo before you head off. Liam, put your arms around her,” Mrs. Smith says.

He turns to the side, wrapping both arms around Sophia, and she rests her arms over his. It probably looks like every cheesy school dance photo he’s ever seen, but Mrs. Smith is eager to take it from three different angles.

“It’s been so long since you’ve been over, Liam,” she coos once she finally finishes her photos.

Liam gives her a smile — his parent smile, the same one he’d used on Mrs. Malik — and gives Sophia a little squeeze before pulling out of the awkward pose.

“You’re treating him like a zoo animal, Mom,” Sophia groans. Her makeup is neat and perfect, her hair styled into a complicated looking updo, set in place with an inordinate amount of hairspray.

Liam’s suit is freshly pressed, crisp and a little loose on his shoulders. He hasn’t seen any of the photographs yet, but he can only assume that they look good together.

His phone buzzes in his pocket, and he takes it out to read a text message from Niall:

_there’s still time left for you to change your mind._

But there isn’t — not really. They’ve already got their perfect photos and their corsages, Mrs. Smith has already fussed over her daughter’s hair for an hour, and the truck is parked outside waiting for them.

Even if he wanted to leave — which he doesn’t, he reminds himself — he couldn’t ditch Sophia at this point.

He knows he’s hurt Zayn. He knows that Niall and Harry are both worried about him, that they think he’ll get his heart broken again. And of course he knows that this conflict has caused a rift in their little group.

 _Everything will be fine,_ he tells himself. Harry and Niall will come around, and Zayn will see that Liam and Sophia are just friends. By Monday, all of it will have blown over.

—

An anti-homecoming party, apparently, is like any other high school party.

Niall and Harry are playing a round of beer pong against Perrie and her friend Jesy, their faces growing redder as they drink, their excitement growing louder whenever one of them scores. 

The music is good — pulsing, electronic, noisy enough to keep your mind from wandering too far — and Zayn is trying his best not to think of Liam. He even makes his own little drinking game out of it.

 _Every time I think of him, I have to take another sip_.

He’s already on drink number four. Or is it five?

Zayn watches the beer pong game for a bit, eventually growing bored and wandering into the kitchen. There’s a crowd around a keg and a bowl of punch, which Zayn is too afraid to touch — it’s got to be excessively strong, he reasons — and he thinks back to that first party he’d gone to with Liam, where he'd laid out all of his insecurities for the other boy to see.

Scars, straight crushes and all.

 _I’m glad you’re still here_ , he’d said.

And Zayn had believed him.

He takes a long gulp of his beer, lips clinging to the cheap plastic cup as he empties it. He’s pouring another beer when he feels someone pressed up against his back.

“Your friends suck at beer pong,” says a familiar voice in his ear.

“Well, maybe you and Jesy are just really, _really_ good,” he replies, turning his head to look at Perrie.

“They definitely cheated,” Niall pipes in, grabbing a beer after Zayn steps aside.

Jesy and Harry are at the punch bowl pouring two more drinks for themselves, laughing about something with other people that Zayn recognizes from school.

There are too many people pressing in around him, and Zayn wants desperately to slip outside into the cool night air. As if she can sense this, Perrie holds two fingers to her mouth, pantomiming the act of holding a cigarette before jerking her head toward the doorway of the kitchen.

Nodding, Zayn follows her outside, and the two of them sit on the porch swing. She plucks a pack of cigarettes from her jacket pocket, sticking one into her mouth before tossing the pack to Zayn. “Lost my lighter. Again.”

He digs around in his pocket and pulls one out, lighting Perrie’s before igniting his own.

“You seem mopey,” she says. She’s a little drunk, he thinks, judging from the way she speaks. “Like…just sad for some reason.”

He shrugs. “I’m not.”

“You’re a shitty liar.” She giggles, pinching his cheek before adding, “But not a bad kisser.”

Zayn scoffs at that. “Yeah, well, I have this habit of running away immediately after kissing someone, so maybe that cancels it out…sorry, by the way, for doing that to you.”

Perrie takes a long drag from her cigarette and shrugs. “I knew it didn’t mean anything. I was bored, and you’re awfully pretty if you haven’t noticed. It was everyone else who blew it out of proportion.”

A quiet moment passes. “In all honesty, I’m really fucking gay,” he admits finally, his voice lowered despite the fact that they’re alone on the porch.

Throwing her head back, she lets out a loud laugh. “Dude,” she says, laughter still in her voice, “I fucking know.”

Zayn’s eyes widen. “Am I _that_ obvious?”

“You are when you’re around Liam Payne,” she snorts. “You stare at him like he’s the center of the universe, love. It’s sweet.”

He frowns at her, shaking his head. “It’s _miserable_. He doesn’t even notice me — he’s too busy with _Sophia_.” Zayn spits the name out like a curse.

Perrie slings an arm over his shoulders, narrowly avoiding burning him with the cherry of her cigarette. “Maybe he loves you too. Maybe he’s scared. Maybe he’s spent his whole life thinking of himself a certain way, and then he meets _you_ and realizes that he’s been wrong all this time.”

“Maybe _you’ve_ been watching too much TV,” Zayn teases.

—

The dance is pretty lame.

Liam normally doesn’t mind functions like this. He’s never seen the point of throwing an _anti-homecoming_ party, thinks it’s just another excuse for his classmates to stay out late drinking while telling their parents they’re attending a school dance.

But for some reason, everything seems off tonight. The music is bland, and even though he knows most of his classmates, he feels like he doesn’t belong there.

Like maybe there’s somewhere else he should be instead.

He tries to shake that nagging feeling, dances with Sophia throughout most of the night, and eventually the last song plays. It’s slow, romantic — and even though Liam initially goes to gather their things so they can leave, Sophia pulls him out to the dance floor again.

She wraps her arms around his neck, and he places his hands on her waist. They sway to the music, and she looks up at him the entire time. Her gaze doesn’t stray once, Liam’s pulse quickening as he realizes what’s happening.

Sophia leans in, her nose grazing his, arms tightening around his neck.

When the song ends, neither of them move, frozen in place for the final notes before she closes the distance between them, lips capturing Liam’s. He stands there, doesn’t kiss her back, doesn’t move his lips against hers, and she pulls away when she realizes that he isn’t responding.

He can’t say what’s wrong with him. He thinks back to kissing Zayn, remembers how effortlessly their lips had slotted together, how he didn’t even have to think about it. His body had responded like it was the most natural thing in the world, before his mind had a chance to understand.

And now, despite the familiarity of standing in the school gym with his arms around Sophia, despite how easy he thought it would be, Liam realizes that this isn’t easy at all.

“What’s the matter?” Sophia asks. Her eyes are wide, face contorted into a puzzled expression.

“I — I can’t do this.”

She takes a step back, arms dropping down to her sides. “If this is about what happened with us—”

“It’s not.”

Sophia presses her lips together.

“C’mon, let’s get our things—”

“I’ll ride with Eleanor,” she responds curtly, spinning on her heel and storming off.

—

_me and harry think your being a fuck fact_

_*you’re_

_*fuckface_

_my point still stands_

“Maybe you should stop drunk texting, love,” Perrie suggests, peering over Zayn’s shoulder at the screen of his phone.

“I just…need Liam to know that he’s being a fuckface,” Zayn replies.

“You can tell him in the morning.” She snatches the phone from his hands, but he’s fast enough to grab it back. “Stop _moping_. Harry and Niall are gonna do another conga line. You don’t wanna miss that, Zaynie. And it’s fucking cold out here, I’m freezing my tits off. Come _onnnn._ ” She drags out the last syllable, tugging at his arm, trying to pull him back into the house.

He’s been sitting on the porch swing for too long, chain-smoking the entire time, staring out at the empty residential street, and Perrie is coming outside for a second time to speak with him but she seems miles away when she speaks, like a voice on the television. _That’s called disassociating,_ his old therapist would say. 

“I’ll come inside in a minute,” he mumbles, pulling his arm away.

Perrie’s voice is soft when she speaks again. “Fine. But if you’re not inside within ten minutes, I’m getting Niall and Harry to drag you into the building.”

Zayn takes a deep breath when he hears the door close behind him, the cold air grounding him.

The stars are brighter out here. He can recognize a few constellations — _Ursa major, Ursa minor, Cassiopeia, Draco._ He thinks back to nights like this in the city, when his father would point up at faint pinpricks of light in the sky.

_“Do you see that bright star in Ursa minor? That’s Polaris, the North Star.”_

It wasn’t very bright next to the blinding city lights. He’d squinted to see it then, perched on his father’s shoulders, eager and wide-eyed and up past his bedtime.

Zayn glances back at the door behind him, hears the muffled thumping of music wafting from the house, and stands up, eyeing the deserted street.

—

_my point still stands_

Liam scrolls through his text messages while he sits at a stoplight, shoulders tense. He doesn’t know what he’s doing, but his hands grip tightly to the steering wheel. He presses too heavily on the gas pedal when the light turns green, his truck roaring loudly as he turns onto Perrie’s street.

His eyes widen when he sees a figure standing in the middle of the road, and he slams on the brakes, the car screeching to a halt. “What the _fuck_ ,” he says, flicking the brights on. “Zayn?”

He puts the truck in park, swinging the door open so that he can approach the other boy. “What are you doing?” he asks once he’s close enough to verify that it’s him.

Zayn shrugs. “I dunno, maybe you should ask your girlfriend.”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

Zayn shrugs again. “What, did you get bored of her like you did with me?”

The words are too harsh coming from Zayn, cutting into Liam far too easily. “Where are Harry and Niall?” he asks, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice.

“Conga line.”

Liam takes a step forward, eyes meeting Zayn’s. The scent of beer and cigarettes lingers on his skin. “You’re drunk,” Liam observes.

“Why are you here?”

Letting out a heavy sigh, Liam nods toward the truck. “Let me give you a ride home. I’ll explain on the way back.” He doesn’t like the idea of leaving Zayn out here alone, wonders what would’ve happened if he hadn’t caught him just then. It looks like he was wandering off; they’re a few blocks away from Perrie’s house, but there’s nothing nearby that Zayn could have gone to. The road stretches on for a few miles ahead of them, leading back into the main part of town, but it would take far too long for him to get there on foot.

Zayn doesn’t say anything, but he walks over to the passenger side of the truck and, in an especially wobbly effort, manages to hoist himself into the vehicle.

—

“Did Princess Sophia decide she didn’t want you anymore?”

Zayn regrets the words as soon as they come out of his mouth, averting his eyes so that he doesn’t have to see that predictably sad look on Liam’s face.

Liam doesn’t respond at first, letting the silence stretch on between them. The radio is off, and the rumbling engine of the truck is the only sound in the car.

“She kissed me,” Liam admits quietly.

“Too many people want to kiss you. Must be hard,” Zayn scoffs. He can hear himself being hostile, petty, needlessly combative.

 _Hurting people is easy,_ he thinks. _Maybe that’s why everyone is so good at it._

“Look, I know…it was wrong of me to blindside you at the football game. I know you’re upset, and I don’t blame you. But will you…will you _please_ hear me out?” Liam begs.

“Say whatever you want.”

Liam sucks in a deep breath before speaking. “She kissed me, and I realized that it wasn’t — it wasn’t right anymore.”

Zayn refuses to look at him, keeping his gaze directly ahead. “So?”

That seems to take Liam by surprise.

“I couldn’t — I couldn’t stop thinking about when we…” he trails off.

“No,” Zayn says, shaking his head. He turns in his seat, looking at Liam, finally giving himself a chance to see the other boy’s face in the dim moonlight. “No, you don’t get to say that now. You don’t get to…decide when you want me on a whim. I don’t want you running to me just because some girl hurt you. That’s not fair to me.”

They pull up to Zayn’s house. All the lights are off, his parents and sisters fast asleep by now.

“Okay,” Liam says after a beat, cutting off the engine. He undoes his seatbelt, turning so that they’re facing each other. “Zayn, I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I upset you. I’m sorry that I went to the dance with Sophia. I’m sorry that I’ve been unfair toward you. And you’re right, we shouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

 _He sounds broken,_ Zayn thinks. His head is swimming, too fuzzy to make sense of it all. He must be misunderstanding this, must be projecting his own feelings onto Liam, but he’s tired and drunk and _for once_ he wants to exist in a world where this boy returns his feelings.

“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” Zayn says softly.

In the dark, it’s hard to see Liam’s reaction to that, but he thinks he can hear confusion in his voice. “You’ve had too much to drink,” Liam replies.

“I don’t want to sleep with you.” A pause. “I just want you to stay.”

Liam considers this for a moment, his gaze softening as he looks at Zayn. “Okay,” he agrees finally.

They get out of the car and Zayn fumbles with his house key before they can sneak in through the front door, creeping slowly up the stairs and through the hallway until they get to Zayn’s room. Once they slip inside, Zayn turns and looks Liam up and down, taking a step closer to him so that there’s only a small gap between them.

“You smell like perfume,” Zayn whispers. The scent is too cloying, too sweet in his nostrils. He brings a hand to Liam’s curls, running fingers through his hair. He knows he’s drunk, can feel the alcohol making him act recklessly, but he doesn’t care. “I don’t like it.”

“Me neither,” Liam mumbles. 

Zayn extracts his fingers from Liam’s hair, instead reaching for his hand. He tugs him toward the bed gently, walking backward until he falls onto it. This causes Liam to topple over too, both of them collapsing onto the mattress in a tangled heap of limbs, soft bodies crashing together clumsily.

A voice in the back of his mind warns him not to do it, but Zayn buries his head into Liam’s chest, kicking off his shoes so that they land on the floor somewhere. Liam undoes his tie, wriggling out of his suit jacket so that he can be more comfortable in the cramped twin sized bed.

They lie there for a moment, their breathing loud in the quiet room. 

“Don’t leave,” Zayn pleads, desperation clear in his voice.

“I won’t.” The response is immediate as Liam’s arms wrap around him tightly, and the last thing he remembers before falling asleep is the feeling of lips pressing against the top of his head. _I won’t, I won’t, I won’t,_ Liam chants into his hair.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay this time! I don't know when my next update will be; it depends on how far ahead I get in writing, but I hope to update sooner rather than later. I also wanted to say thank you to everyone who's been commenting and giving kudos to this story. Y'all are wonderful and kind and it's such a good feeling to write something and know that other people are enjoying it...I appreciate your feedback so much, every comment makes my day! Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Liam wakes up in an unfamiliar bed, soft morning light creeping in through the open window, where Zayn stands bleary-eyed, a lit cigarette between his fingers. A gust of chilly air makes him burrow more deeply into a heap of blankets.  


He’s not used to being on this side of the window.

“I thought you liked to sleep in,” Liam says quietly, voice raspy with sleep.

Zayn turns his head at that, shrugging. “I don’t sleep well when I’ve been drinking.” His hair is messy, flat against his head instead of done up in a quiff.

“You never sleep well.”

And Zayn shrugs again, turning back to look out the window.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

Liam untangles himself from the mess of blankets, slipping out of bed so that he can stand behind Zayn at the window. “ _That_ ,” he says, pointing at the cigarette. “I mean, I take it you know the health risks.”

“Yeah, but it makes me look so _cool._ ” 

“It’s a stupid habit,” Liam retorts, annoyance clear in his voice.

Zayn snuffs the cigarette out on the windowsill, dropping it there before turning around so that he and Liam are face to face. “Not the worst thing I could be doing,” he replies, nostrils flaring defiantly. “I replaced one dangerous habit with another one. And maybe smoking is bad for you, but at least if I quit tomorrow, my lungs can heal themselves eventually. Suicide isn’t quite so easy to bounce back from. I still get to think _maybe this will kill me,_ but this way I don’t freak my parents out so much.”

Swallowing, Liam nods in response. “Sorry,” he mutters after a moment.

“You didn’t know.” 

Zayn watches him through thick lashes, smelling strongly of cigarette smoke, and Liam finds himself too afraid to breathe, too afraid to move. He doesn’t want to disrupt the stillness between them, doesn’t want to go back to that place they were in last night, when Zayn was shutting him out.

Liam is still wearing his outfit from the dance, his dress clothes wrinkled from sleep, his tie discarded somewhere on the cluttered floor — and yet, somehow he’d slept through the night, huddled together with Zayn. There’s a faint flush on his cheeks when he considers that, when he finds himself unable to pull his eyes away from Zayn’s as the other boy brings a thumb up to his mouth, dragging it slowly along his bottom lip. His heart beats erratically, and he takes in quick, ragged breaths.

The air between them has changed.

Maybe it was gradual. Maybe Harry and Niall were right to think they saw something there.

Zayn chews on his bottom lip, dropping his hand — suddenly shy, eyes darting to the floor. “What’s different, then?” he asks.

Confused, Liam tilts his head. “Huh?”

“Last night, you said, um…you couldn’t stop thinking about…us kissing? So what changed?”

Liam’s mouth feels dry suddenly, and he runs a hand through his hair before attempting to speak. He’s nervous when he opens his mouth at last. “Do you know what I like about living in this town?” When Zayn gives him a blank expression, he adds, “Just go with it, please.”

“Um…there’s no traffic?”

Shaking his head, Liam continues. “I like it because I’ve always lived here. Because I know where everything is, and I know everybody’s names. I know what time the diner opens, and I know that the corner store is closed on Sundays, and I know where everybody’s houses are.”

“Okay…” Zayn says slowly, still not getting it.

“I’ve known Sophia since we were kids. We started dating at the end of our sophomore year. She was my first kiss…my first relationship. For me, that’s what love felt like — familiar. I knew everything about Sophia when we were dating, learned all of her habits, all of her secrets.” He pauses, noticing how uncomfortable Zayn looks — fidgety, flighty, like he wants to put as much distance as possible between the two of them. “She dumped me over the summer. Told me she was getting bored, told me she thought we should go our separate ways. That was it.”

Liam gives Zayn a chance to respond to that, continues speaking when he doesn’t. “When we started talking again, it felt safe. It felt familiar. I knew what I was doing. And then she kissed me, and…suddenly it didn’t make sense anymore. It felt familiar, but it felt _wrong_ , and I just stood there…she kissed me, but I didn’t kiss her back, and…I couldn’t help but compare it to how it felt…when _you_ kissed me, because I couldn’t…I couldn’t help myself then.”

“You kissed me back,” Zayn says, like it’s finally starting to make sense to him.

“It was…different. It was new. But it felt…” he trails off, searching for the word. “It felt right with you.”

Zayn inches closer to him, stands right in front of him so that their toes touch, and takes both of his hands. “I want to believe you,” he says, meeting Liam’s gaze.

“But you don’t?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know.”

They stand there, silent, the cold morning air still blowing in through the open window, and they both jump when someone knocks on the door.

“Zayn? Is Liam here? I saw his truck out front.”

Mrs. Malik sounds confused, but Zayn just clears his throat and calls out, “Yeah, he gave me a ride home last night. It was pretty late, so I asked if he wanted to stay over.”

She doesn’t answer immediately. “Well, is he staying for breakfast?”

“No, I’m on my way out now,” Liam cuts in.

“All right, dear,” Mrs. Malik replies.

Zayn drops Liam’s hands.

Liam pulls away to collect his things, slipping his shoes on. For the first time, he notices the little fish tank sitting on Zayn’s nightstand, next to the photo of him and Louis. The goldfish from the fair swim around, and Liam thinks they look livelier in their new home. 

“That’s just their temporary home. I ordered a bigger tank online. It’s gonna be sick,” Zayn remarks, still standing by the window.

“They’re lucky to have you.” Liam glances back at Zayn again before he makes his way over to the door, his jacket slung over his shoulder. “I’ll see you on Monday? Unless you’d rather catch the bus.”

“I’ll see you on Monday,” Zayn echoes.

—

“You know I don’t mind if your friends stay over, Zayn, I just would’ve liked you to give us a head’s up.”

Somehow, his parents have got him cornered in the kitchen, his father leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed, while his mother stands beside him, exasperation clear on her face.

“Sorry, Mom.” He feels small in front of them, wants to go hide in his room, but he owes them an explanation. “There was a change of plans.”

“You said you were going to sleep over at Harry’s house. Did something happen?” his father asks. There’s an edge of concern in his deep voice. A year ago, they would have been visibly angry. But now, they’ve got a _delicate situation_ on their hands, a son who resembles a ticking time bomb, a son who they don’t want to push too far.

He hates when they put up a united front like this, but he lets out a heavy sigh and admits, “I lied. I went to a party at my friend Perrie’s house. Liam went to the homecoming dance, but I guess he didn’t have a good time, and I wasn’t having a good time either, so he just gave me a ride home. Sorry for lying.” The words come out emotionlessly, robotically.

His mother makes a face like her suspicions have been confirmed, but his father is the one who speaks. “Should we be worried, _beta_?” 

“No,” Zayn says instantly. “It was stupid of me, I know.” Neither of his parents respond to that, the two of them exchanging a worried look, and Zayn uses that opportunity to slip past them and pour himself a cup of coffee, avoiding eye contact with both of them.

“I know we’ve been lenient with you, love,” his mother finally says as he busies himself with the coffee, adding milk and sugar so that he doesn’t have to look up. “I know the move has been hard on you — it’s been an adjustment period for all of us. And I am beyond glad that you have made so many friends here already, but we have rules in place for a reason.”

Zayn takes a sip of his coffee, sticky sweet on his tongue. His shaky hands added too much sugar — he isn’t good with confrontation, hates to hear that he’s disappointed his parents.

“What your mother is trying to say is that we’ve decided that you’re grounded for the next two weeks,” his father says, his voice firm.

Zayn finally turns around to face them both, taking a while to respond. It’s a lenient punishment, but a year ago, he still would’ve put up a fight. The difference is that now he knows his parents are trying, and he’s trying, too. “Okay. I’ll be in my room,” he sighs. 

“One more thing,” his dad continues. “We called your old therapist in the city and made you an appointment for next weekend. We both agree that it’d be a good idea for you to start seeing someone closer to us, so she’s going to give you some referrals for local counselors.”

“Great,” Zayn bites back. It comes out harsher than he intends, remorse immediately crossing his face. “Sorry,” he whispers.

He can hear them both speaking in hushed, concerned voices when he walks out of the kitchen, clutching his mug of coffee, nearly burning himself as the hot liquid sloshes around in the cup.

—

Alone in his room, Zayn starts his homework.

His phone buzzes a couple of times, but he ignores it, eyes focused on the assignment in front of him. He isn’t sure how much time passes, but it feels good to keep his mind on something — _anything_ _—_ other than what happened with Liam.

 _It felt right with you,_ he’d said.

If Zayn were brave enough to admit it, he would’ve said, _It feels peaceful with you. It feels easy with you._

That’s how it’d felt when he woke up this morning, head buried in Liam’s chest. He wanted to stay there, could’ve stayed in bed with Liam all day, but a nagging voice in the back of his head told him that Liam would wake up and regret everything.

So he’d pulled himself out of bed, smoked a cigarette, tried to remember how to breathe as he gazed at the beautiful boy in his bed — a crown of soft curls framing a round face, pink lips parted slightly. 

When his phone buzzes again, Zayn sets his pencil down and reaches over to his nightstand to glance at it. He has four new text messages — one from Niall, asking if he’s okay, and another three from Liam.

_hope you didn’t get in trouble_

_my parents are sooooo pissed that i didn’t come home last night_

_sorry if i’m annoying you_

Zayn taps out a response:

_i’m grounded for 2 weeks AND i have to go to my therapist next weekend :(_

Liam’s answer is almost instantaneous:

_that blows!!! that means we can’t watch scary movies for halloween :( it’s a tradition me & the boys have. i’ll sneak u a smore._

_haha thx,_ Zayn replies. _i gotta go back to my hw, don’t want my parents to decide to take my phone away._

His phone buzzes one more time with Liam’s final text for the day. _ok, sorry again for being a fuckface._

Zayn fights a grin, turning off his phone before going back to his assignment.

—

The next morning, Zayn sits out on the front step like he usually does, two travel mugs of coffee in his hand, and he sees a familiar pickup truck driving down the street, about ten minutes earlier than usual. When Liam pulls up, he feels his stomach twisting into knots. It had been so easy to spend time with Liam before, and he had fit so easily into his arms, and _it felt right with you_ is still so fresh in his mind — and now he worries that Liam will take those words back, that he will admit it was a moment of weakness.

Zayn stands up and makes his way over to the car, opening the door to see a white box on his seat.

“Morning.” Liam’s cheeks are flushed pink, a wide smile breaking across his face, and he gestures toward the box. “Open it.”

Raising his eyebrows, Zayn follows Liam’s instruction, opening the box to find a dozen glazed donuts. His stomach rumbles as the scent of hot donuts reaches his nose, and he looks up at Liam to smile. “Um, thanks.”

“I know you don’t usually eat breakfast, so I thought, um…what goes better with coffee than donuts? I left the house early so that we could enjoy our little meal in the parking lot. I hope that’s okay.”

“I’ve never turned down a free donut,” Zayn remarks, lifting the box and climbing into the passenger seat. They pull out of the driveway with no sound aside from the radio, the box of donuts warm in Zayn’s lap, and when he looks over at Liam there’s still a faint flush to his cheeks, the ghost of a smile lingering in his eyes. “You’re in a good mood.”

Liam’s smile broadens — it’s Zayn’s favorite thing to look at, he thinks, because his eyes squint and his face splits with it. This isn’t the fake smile he’ll use sometimes, it’s the real one that lights him up; Zayn thinks it’s contagious, because he can feel a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Well,” Liam says, glancing over at Zayn. “I’m with you.”

And it’s not fair how Zayn feels his heartbeat going into overdrive.

They stop at a red light, Liam turning in his seat. “Sorry, did that make you uncomfortable? I’m not, um…trying to do anything. You just — you said you didn’t believe me, but I meant it when I said it felt right with you. And I just want to show you that you’re important to me, and that I like being around you.”

The light turns green and they start moving again, Zayn silent. He wishes more than anything to be able to understand how that can be the case. When he looks at Liam, he sees someone who is kind, brave, sure of himself. What would someone like that want with Zayn? 

When they get to the school parking lot, there are only a few other cars there. They have time before they need to go into their first classes, so they sit in the truck and start eating.

“It’s not that I don’t believe you. I just worry that you’re…confused,” Zayn admits in between bites.

“I’m not,” Liam replies instantly.

“Okay, so let’s say you really are interested in me…erm, romantically.” It sounds so strange to say that aloud. “Have you thought about your family? Would they be okay with you dating another boy? Would your friends? What about your classmates — _our_ classmates?”

“I don’t know how my parents would react. My sisters would be fine, though. And you know Harry and Niall would be okay with it. I don’t care about anyone else’s opinions.” Liam shrugs, reaching for a second donut.

“It’s easy to _say_ that. I like flying under the radar here. It’s nice, and I don’t want to go back to being a human punching bag. Trust me, that’s not fun.”

“No one’ll mess with you here. And they won’t mess with me either, believe me.” He says it with such confidence, and Zayn can’t help but wonder what he means.

“What, they all just like you so much that they’re willing to suppress their flagrant homophobia?”

“I can’t answer that without sounding arrogant, but people here are different. I’ve known these kids since we were barely old enough to talk. If anyone came after you, you’d have me, Niall, and Harry all ready to kick their ass.”

“Niall and Harry wouldn’t know how to fight someone if their lives depended on it,” Zayn snorts. “No one’s gonna come after me, because I’m going to stay under the radar. Besides, I was talking specifically about _you_. What’re you gonna do when someone is calling you every slur they can think of? How are you going to handle that?”

“I’ll worry about that when it happens.”

Zayn doesn’t have a response to that, thinking that Liam must be impossibly hardheaded, but Liam finally speaks again.

“I’ll figure it out,” he promises, earnest as ever.

—

After everything this morning, Zayn needs to talk to someone outside of Liam’s group of friends, and he can’t exactly call Louis up in the middle of the school day, so he intercepts Perrie at her locker before lunch, face flushed from running across campus.

She jumps when he taps her on the shoulder, but she relaxes once she turns to see that it’s him. “You startled me,” she says. “Also, it was very _not cool_ of you to ditch my party on Saturday without even telling me where you were going. I thought something happened to you!”

He shrugs off her scolding. “Sorry. Something came up. Um, well. Some _one_ , actually.”

Perrie raises an eyebrow. “I’m intrigued. _Do_ tell.”

“Liam. He and Sophia aren’t an item anymore, so he came over and — I don’t know what his plan was, really, but he drove me home because he found me wandering on your street, and then we, um…well, we went back to my house and he told me that she tried to kiss him at the dance, and he didn’t like it apparently, so then the next morning he was all _it_ _felt right with you, Zayn_ and I had no idea what to do with that information, and today he brought me a dozen donuts.”

“A dozen donuts?” Perrie repeats, as if that’s the most important part of the story.

“Yeah. Did you hear the rest?”

“What kind?”

“Glazed, but—”

“Must be real, then. Donuts are practically giant doughy engagement rings. You should definitely make out with him.”

“I need you to take this seriously.”

She makes a face at him, pinching his cheek. “Silly boy, I _am_. You like Liam. Liam likes you. Only _you_ would make it complicated. By the way, remember when I predicted this the other night on the porch?”

Zayn rolls his eyes. “I need advice. _Please_.”

Maybe she hears the desperation in his voice, because her expression shifts to be considerably more serious. “What are you so afraid of?”

And Zayn avoids her gaze, giving a shrug.

“Figure that out, then. And then figure out whether or not it’s something you can get past. And if it is, then you should go make out with Liam Payne. And if it _isn’t,_ then you should go figure out how to stop being so obsessed with him.”

It’s good advice — easier said than done, of course — and he doesn’t argue with her.

—

Liam realizes he forgot to tell Niall and Harry about what happened on Saturday.

The only reason he realizes this is because they both slam their trays onto the table and fall into an icy silence. Zayn hasn’t arrived at lunch yet, so there’s no one to back Liam up.

“Will Sophia be joining us at lunch today?” Niall asks pointedly.

“No,” Liam answers calmly. “Me and Zayn made up. Me and Sophia broke up. You both let Zayn wander off by himself in the middle of the road.”

“We texted him the next day,” Harry huffs. 

“Whatever happened to the buddy system?” Liam snaps back.

Exchanging a glance, Niall and Harry sigh. “Sorry,” they mutter.

“Don’t apologize to me. Apologize to Zayn.”

Zayn arrives at the table just then, slumping into his usual seat. “Apologize to me for what?” 

“For being shitty friends,” Liam clarifies. “How are you?”

“Um, good. English went a little late today, had to talk to my teacher, you know.” He starts unpacking his lunch, cheeks flushed, and Liam wonders what’s gotten into him. “How were they being shitty friends?”

“Ditched you at the party.”

“We didn’t ditch him!” Niall protests.

“Yeah, don’t blame them, I wandered off on my own.” Zayn’s knee brushes against Liam’s under the table, and he keeps his eyes on Liam as he speaks. “I’m glad I ran into you.”

It’s pathetic how just a handful of innocent words and a fleeting touch are enough to make Liam’s breathing quicken. “Me too,” he admits.

Harry and Niall both stare at Liam, _I told you so_ written clearly on their faces. He doesn’t give them the satisfaction of trying to deny it or shirking away, instead reciprocating Zayn’s touch by knocking their knees together gently under the table. 

It’s only been two days since the dance, and Liam is buzzing with everything that’s happened. He hasn’t thought much about labels, about _gay_ or _straight_ or _bisexual_ , finding himself more preoccupied with the infatuation of it all. He doesn’t want to think about it, wants nothing more than to dive right into it and kiss Zayn.

But it’s not that easy.

He understands Zayn’s hesitancy, mentally kicks himself for taking so long to realize he was falling for him, and yet it frustrates him endlessly that the other boy refuses to take a chance. _Let’s just do it_ , he wants to say. _Let’s just be together._

He’s not going to pressure him, though, chooses instead to do whatever he can to show that he’s being genuine.

That’s not easy, either, but it’s all he can do for now, and perhaps that’s why it barely fazes him when he passes by Sophia in the hallway after lunch. Her eyes glaze over him, her cheeks tinted pink — she’s embarrassed, he realizes, as their uncomfortable kiss was rather public.

 _Does she know?_ Liam wonders. _Could she tell there was someone else?_

He steps into class and shakes the thought from his mind, instead remembers the soft tickle of Zayn’s hair against his chin, the loose grip of his fingers tangled in Liam’s dress shirt.

—

“Let’s take the long way home.”

Zayn looks at Liam likes he’s crazy. “What?”

“You’re grounded, right? I figured — maybe you would want a little time away from the house,” Liam explains. “But we can always take the normal route, if you want.”

Remembering Perrie’s advice, Zayn shakes his head. “No, you’re right. I don’t wanna go back home yet.”

He lied earlier when she asked him what he was afraid of.

He knows exactly what he’s afraid of, sees it replaying in his head over and over again — the look on Dylan’s face when they’d passed each other in the hallway, right after they’d been caught together at that party. He was a different person than the one Zayn had fallen for — disgust written across his face, eyes hardened — and when one of his friends shoved Zayn in the hallway, he’d laughed.

Not the same laugh that Zayn had grown to love. Not the silly giggle he’d let out when they were alone and Zayn said something that amused him, not the breathy laugh that would escape his lips when they kissed sometimes, giddy and lovesick.

It was different. Cold, forced, and Zayn liked to tell himself that there was something remorseful in it.

But Dylan had never apologized, not even once everyone at school found out that Zayn tried to kill himself.

As they drive, Zayn watches Liam silently, eyes tracing his features. He’s the opposite of Dylan right now — warm, relaxed in his seat as he steers the vehicle with one hand, humming along to the radio under his breath. Sunlight trickles in through the window, catching the lighter tones in his hair, giving him a golden glow, and Zayn’s breath catches in his throat. 

They don’t speak for most of the drive, Liam staring out at the road and Zayn staring at Liam. He’s shameless as he does, but Liam either doesn’t notice or doesn’t seem to mind, and it puts Zayn at ease. 

When they finally pull up to Zayn’s house, he parks the truck and they don’t move. After a long beat, Zayn says, “Thanks for the ride.” 

“Anytime.”

He lingers for a moment before stepping out of the truck and walking inside.

—

The rest of the week passes like that. Liam picks Zayn up early every morning, and he always has a surprise — danishes one day, fresh fruit the next, as if sugar alone will quiet Zayn’s doubts — and they take the long way home, silent as they drive down the back roads.

On Friday, Liam’s got a plate of homemade cookies, still warm.

“I got up early to make them,” he says with a smile. “The first batch got a little burnt, so I had to scramble to make more…I was in a bit of a rush.” Liam’s hair is still damp from his shower, a single curl sticking out unevenly from the rest.

“Is that why I didn’t see you running this morning?” Zayn doesn’t think about it, doesn’t give it a second thought when he reaches out and smooths down Liam’s hair, tucking the rogue curl behind his ear.

Liam freezes for a moment before answering. “Yeah.” He chews his bottom lip, pulling out of Zayn’s driveway, eyebrows furrowed as if in deep thought.

He’s quiet for the rest of the day, uncharacteristically so, barely talking at lunch and avoiding Zayn’s gaze when they pass each other in the hallway. The silence continues when they meet in the parking lot at the end of the day. Zayn finally speaks up once they climb into the truck; it’s always felt safer in there, just the two of them and the radio.

“What’s the matter, _Leeyum_?”

“Nothing.”

The truck rumbles loudly when Liam turns the key in the ignition. They drive back to their neighborhood, but Liam’s got that faraway look in his eyes. “You said you’re going to your therapist tomorrow?” he asks when they pull up to Zayn’s house.

“Yeah,” Zayn replies.

Liam swallows, reaching out to give Zayn’s hand a quick squeeze. “Call me after your appointment?”

The touch has Zayn taken aback, makes him flinch in response, but he nods. “Okay.”

—

“I don’t want to see another therapist.”

Dr. Shirani leans back in her chair. Her silver hair is pulled back into a bun, glasses resting low on her nose, and she smiles at Zayn like she always does. He’s been seeing her since he got out of the hospital last spring, got her name from a family friend, and when he sits across from her now, he feels a sense of relief.

  
It wasn’t always like this. For the first month or so, he hated therapy. He didn’t like the one-sided conversation they had, didn’t like to answer her prying questions. But it’s been helpful, and now that he knows Dr. Shirani, he doesn’t want to go through that process again with someone else.

“Why not?” she asks. Her voice is always gentle. When she asks a question, she seems to genuinely want to hear the answer without coming across as being too demanding.

Zayn shrugs. “Dunno. I like you, I guess.”

“I can’t force you to see another therapist, but I do have a list of people who live much closer to where you are now. I know several of them personally, and I believe you would do well under their care.”

Shrugging again, Zayn says, “So? I like you. I don’t know them.”

Dr. Shirani lets out a sigh — amused rather than exasperated — and adjusts her glasses. “I’ll talk to your father after our session. Maybe we can work something out where you come into the city every other week, or I could meet you halfway.”

“There’s nothing halfway between here and there, not unless you want to meet in a cornfield,” he scoffs.

“Right. Well, let’s not waste any time going back and forth.” She smiles at him, leaning forward. “What did you want to talk about today, Zayn?”

Another shrug. “Do you remember what I told you about, erm…what happened last year? At school?”

She nods. “Of course.

“At my new school, there’s only a handful of people who know I’m gay. My friends, you know. And I don’t know if I should tell other people there. I can’t imagine that they’d be any more accepting than the kids around here, you know? But…”

He lets that hang in the air for a moment, shifting in his seat.

“But?” Dr. Shirani prompts him.

“But one of my new friends…I think I sort of, um…have a bit of a crush on him, you know.” He’s blushing now. There has never been a time in his life when he’s wanted to discuss his romantic problems with a woman who reminds him of his grandmother, and yet here he is, spilling his feelings.

“Does he have a problem with it?”

Zayn shakes his head. “I kissed him. It was stupid. But we moved on, you know. And now he seems like he…returns the feelings.”

“I see.”

“But I’m not comfortable just, like…outing myself to people at school, and I don’t want him to realize how fucking cruel people can be about it and change his mind…I don’t want him to just, you know, reject me one day because he realizes he can’t hold my hand in public, or because his parents don’t want him dating another boy, or…I don’t know. Anything, really. I just think he’s oversimplifying it.”

Dr. Shirani thinks about that for a moment. “Would you be happier if you were dating him?”

“Yes,” Zayn answers instantly. “I mean, you know, I don’t think I’m gonna stop being depressed just because I’ve got a boyfriend or anything, but I’m happy being around him. I’m happy when we spend time together.”

She smiles at that. “I won’t tell you what to do. But there is an option to move slowly. Maybe you don’t need to out yourself at school, but you can still spend time with him in whatever capacity you feel is best. I think it would be good for you to explore these emotions in a healthy way. Really, Zayn, you’re doing so much better. Do you feel better than you did when we first started our sessions?”

“Yeah. I think the medication is really helping. And like…learning how to deal with things a little better. I haven’t self-harmed since before we moved.”

“I’m happy to hear that. You’ve made a lot of progress. You should be proud of yourself.”

And it’s weird how much that makes him grin.

—

“How was therapy?” Liam asks.

Zayn and his father are on their way to lunch at a nearby McDonald’s. Zayn had forgotten how much he missed these streets; they’re a few blocks away from their old house, and the sidewalk beneath his feet might as well be paved with gold for how excited Zayn is to be there.

“It was good,” Zayn says, eyeing his father as he holds the phone up to his ear. “I think I’m gonna start coming up here a couple of times per month, you know, so I can see my old doctor.”

“Oh. Cool.” Liam falls silent before adding, “I miss you.”

“You saw me yesterday.” Zayn laughs, ignoring the fluttering in his chest. “That’s not enough time to miss me.” He can’t tell if his dad is listening or not, but he keeps his voice lowered just in case.

Liam laughs too. “I know, but like…the last few weekends, we’ve spent a lot of time together. It’s weird not seeing you on a Saturday.”

“Well, I’m confined to the house for another week, so you should probably get used to it. And I’m going to spend a lot of weekends up here now, apparently.”

“You should let me drive you. You can show me the city, show me where you grew up and all that. I mean, you know. If you want.”

Zayn hesitates. “My parents might actually like that. It’s a pain for them to drive me all the way up here, I think.”

“I’m more than happy to give you a ride. You know that.”

Fighting a grin, Zayn walks into the restaurant, falling a few steps behind his father. “I have to go, we’re getting lunch. But for the record, I kinda miss you too. Even though I just saw you yesterday.”

“See you soon,” Liam replies.

“Yeah. Bye.”

He feels a bit dazed as they order their food, barely paying attention to his meal as he eats. _I miss you_ , Liam had said.

It sounded like he’d meant it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Long time, no see! The past two weeks were a little rough for me, but I'm back with a brand new chapter! Thank you again for all the feedback and kudos, y'all are the best :)

“I have a surprise for you,” Liam says.

They’re walking out of school, side by side, and Zayn has been practicing something in his head all day.

_Liam, I like you._ Well, he already knows that, doesn’t he?

_We should go on a date._

Yeah. A private date, in a place where no one from school will see them, because Zayn _really_ doesn’t want to get his ass kicked again. _Romantic,_ he berates himself silently.

“What kind of surprise?”

They reach the truck, climbing inside as Liam smirks. “Well, if I told you then it would ruin the surprise, wouldn’t it?”

“You know I’m technically grounded, right?” Zayn asks as they pull out of the school parking lot. “Like, my parents will be _really, really_ pissed off if I’m not home by the time they get back from work. And if I don’t beat my sisters home, they’re going to tell on me. It’s their favorite pastime.”

Liam laughs at that, throwing his head back. “I’ll get you home at a reasonable time.”

“Spoken like a true gentleman,” Zayn teases.

The ride is short, Zayn still trying to think of the right words to say when they arrive at the park. 

“There’s a spot here that I like to visit when I need to think,” Liam explains as they get out of the car. He leads Zayn to a path that runs through the trees, hands shoved into his pockets. “I’ve been coming here a lot lately.”

“Got a lot on your mind?” 

“Mhm.”

They arrive at a fork, taking the path on the left and walking for a bit longer until they get to a large oak tree. There’s a pile of fallen leaves beneath it, and Liam sits on top of them, brittle leaves crunching as he sinks into the pile. Zayn follows suit, scooting backward so that he can rest against the trunk of the tree.

“Is this my surprise?” he asks softly.

“It’s part of it.” Liam picks up a leaf and idly rips it into pieces. “The other part is…a little harder. So, please just…bear with me?” He pauses. “I’ve been thinking. About you, and me, and…everything else.”

“Oh?” Zayn is afraid to breathe at this point, afraid that Liam’s going to say that it’s too late, that they don’t belong together, that they’re better off as friends. “And, um. What conclusion did you reach?”

“I…I sort of figured it out.”

“What do you mean?”

Liam sucks in a deep breath, avoiding Zayn’s gaze. “Remember when you asked me what I would do if people started treating me differently if I started dating you?”

Zayn nods, nervously licking his lips.

“I figured out what I would do. I wouldn’t do _anything_. Because…I don’t care. I really…I really like you. And you feel the same way, I can tell, and…I think it’s stupid if we let other people’s opinions keep us from acting on that, because you’re more important to me than anyone who has a problem with us. And, um. I know your circumstances are different, I know you’ve been through a lot. If you don’t feel the same way — if you’d rather continue to stay under the radar, then that’s okay. I won’t hold that against you. Just say the word and we can go back to how we were before.”

Liam is staring at a leaf in his hands, ripping it to tiny pieces, like he’s afraid to look at Zayn and hear rejection.

But Zayn scoots closer to Liam, reaching out to push an unruly curl out of his eyes. He doesn’t think he could ever reject the boy in front of him, thinks he wants to tuck him away somewhere safe to keep the world from shattering that brave attitude of his — _you’re more important to me than anyone who has a problem with us._ “I was gonna tell you that I wanted to, um…try this.”

Liam turns to face him, their eyes meeting as Zayn leans in, their lips brushing together.

It’s different than last time.

There’s no immediate instinct to pull away, no surprise as Liam kisses back. Their lips move together clumsily, teeth knocking together, Zayn’s hands tangling in Liam’s hair. It’s soft — Liam is soft, smelling of soap, his lips gentle and chapped when they move against Zayn’s. 

When they pull apart this time, Zayn doesn’t run, his eyes fluttering open so that he can gaze into Liam’s.

“So…what does that mean?” Liam asks hesitantly, frozen in place like he’s afraid to move and scare Zayn off.

“If you don’t care, neither do I,” Zayn replies, voice low. He wants to be brave for Liam, a smile tugging at his lips. “Okay?”

Liam nods, a subtle movement. “Okay.”

Zayn leans in again, capturing Liam’s lips with his own. He’s too eager, he realizes, when they both start toppling down into the pile of leaves, bursting into a messy heap of giggles. He leans over Liam, fluttery lips pressing kisses to his nose, to his cheeks, to his chin, leaves crunching beneath them, their laughter mixing with the cold October air.

—

They can’t stay at the park for long, which is unfortunate — Liam thinks he could stay there forever, thinks he could lie down in the leaves next to Zayn for hours and stare up at the branches of the oak tree, listening to the steady sound of Zayn’s breathing, Zayn’s laugh, Zayn’s voice.

But Zayn is technically grounded, so they get back to his house just before his sisters get home from school, and Liam presses a kiss to Zayn’s cheek before he gets out of the car.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says. It sounds different coming out of his mouth today, shaky and excited.

Zayn lights up, eyes shining. “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he repeats, climbing out of the truck and walking inside. When he reaches the door of his house, he looks back over his shoulder at Liam before stepping inside.

Liam’s head is buzzing as he drives home, frozen behind the wheel of his car even once he reaches his own driveway, knee bouncing. He takes a deep breath before finally walking inside, letting the dog out, and racing up to his room, where he collapses onto the bed, burying his head in his pillow, a muffled noise escaping from his mouth. 

_Holy shit. That really happened._

And maybe this means something. Maybe this means they’re together now, or maybe it doesn’t. They didn’t really talk about it, but Liam feels like he’s floating, like he’s so light that a gust of wind might carry him off.

He almost wants to take out his phone, to call someone — one of his sisters, maybe, or Niall, or Harry. They’d want to know about this.

But he doesn’t do that, doesn’t want to change it, doesn’t want to ruin whatever it is between him and Zayn.

Because for now, it’s just the two of them — Zayn and Liam kissing under an oak tree, Zayn and Liam lying beside each other, Zayn and Liam, Zayn and Liam. It has a nice ring to it, private and intimate.

Their friends can find out later, he thinks, but right now this is his. It’s _theirs_. 

—

Liam wakes up the next day teeming with excess energy, immediately going for a run.

It’s cold today, and he didn’t get much sleep last night, not with his head so full of everything that’s happened, but somehow that run is the best feeling in the world, cold air hitting his face and filling his lungs.

When he passes Zayn’s house, he instinctively looks up to see him — shirtless, head sticking out of the window, cigarette hanging from his mouth. His eyes are tired, but they light up when Liam stops in the street. He waves, a lazy flick of his hand, and Liam waves back eagerly, cheeks red from running.

“Can’t stop for long,” Liam calls out, making a point to hop from one leg to the other. “Gotta keep moving!”

Zayn laughs at that, and Liam watches him take another drag from his cigarette before continuing his run.

—

Most mornings, Zayn feels sluggish and tired.

But today he’d practically leapt from his bed, making sure he was right in front of the window when Liam came running by, curls bouncing, beautiful in the weak sunlight, grinning up at Zayn. 

“Maybe you should skip the coffee this morning. You seem a bit jittery,” Zayn says as he climbs into the truck.

“Just excited. Happy to see you,” Liam replies. 

“Yeah?”

And Liam answers the only way that he can think of, using his thumb and forefinger to hold Zayn’s chin and turn his head so that they’re facing each other, leaning forward to press their lips together. “Yeah.”

Zayn’s cheeks are sore from smiling so hard, and he eagerly kisses Liam again, addicted to the taste of his lips. When they pull apart, Liam grabs his coffee from Zayn and takes a sip.

“Hope my parents didn’t see that,” Zayn says as they drive off. “They’re gonna be insufferable if they find out.”

“In a good way, though, right?”

“Yeah, haven’t I told you how in love with you they are?”

Liam grins at that. “My parents would love you.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

And Zayn’s heart flutters, so the only response he can give to that is a little hum. He takes a sip of his own coffee — in all honesty, he’s probably too jittery for it too — before speaking again. “I was thinking…maybe we shouldn’t tell anyone yet. Just until we actually, you know, go on a date. Is that okay?”

“It does present a small problem that you’re grounded.” Liam punctuates the sentence by glancing over at Zayn, shooting him a playful look.

Zayn shrugs. “So take me on a date when I’m un-grounded. Only a few more days until freedom.”

“Fine,” Liam agrees. “But only if you agree to one condition.”

Tilting his head skeptically, Zayn gives Liam a suspicious look. “Oh?”

“Let me surprise you with it.” He giggles as he says it, giddy and boyish in the morning light.

So Zayn nods. “Okay.” 

He thinks he might say yes to just about anything Liam asks him to do.

—

Halloween finally rolls around that Saturday, and Liam shows up to Niall’s place early in the evening with a bag full of candy and a grin on his face. “Trick or treat,” he says when the door swings open.

“What’s up!” Niall grins and embraces Liam, pulling him inside. “Harry’s out back getting the bonfire started. Figured I’d leave movie selection to you this year; I’m sick of fucking alien movies.”

Liam returns the grin and follows Niall to the basement of the house, where there’s a television and a DVD player hooked up. He places the candy — which includes a pack of halal marshmallows that Zayn had requested —in a pile in the middle of the coffee table. A stack of movies sits on the floor, and he can see Harry making a pile of firewood through a sliding glass door. 

He takes his phone out and snaps a quick photo of Harry struggling to keep the pile of wood from collapsing. _haha look what ur missing!_

Zayn replies almost instantly. _don’t forget to save me a s’more :(_

Liam feels his cheeks flushing, a goofy smile spreading across his lips. _i promise i’ll make it up to you ;)_

_—_

It takes approximately two and a half scary movies, one bag of chocolate kisses, and about six s’mores before Liam feels like he might puke. He sprawls out on the carpeted floor of Niall’s basement next to his friends, lying on his back with his head tilted up at the TV. A young, pretty blonde girl is very close to being murdered on screen.

“Niall, that’s you,” Liam says, pointing up at her.

“Oh, what, because all blondes look alike?”

“Blonde isn’t even your natural hair color, so no. Don’t be so offended, the guy that just died is definitely Harry.”

“Pretty accurate, Liam,” Harry agrees. “I’ve got a natural streak of curiosity, what can I say.”

“Let me guess, Liam. You’re the big muscly guy that saves her in the end. Maybe the blonde girl should be Zayn, then,” Niall teases.

Liam throws a marshmallow at him.

“Is that who you’ve been texting all night?” Harry asks. He sits up on the floor, leaning back on his hands. 

He wants to stay silent, but his phone immediately buzzes, as if on cue, and Niall snatches the phone from his hand to read the message on the screen. 

“He wants you to come over tonight? Damn, Payno, you’re moving fast with this one—”

“Shut up, it isn’t like that. It’s my fault he’s grounded. I’m just gonna bring him a s’more.”

“S’more is always better than s’less,” Harry says sagely. “The movie’s about to end. I strongly support the idea of you leaving as soon as it’s over. Been meaning to spend more one on one time with Niall.”

“Yeah, bring your boy something sweet,” Niall chimes in. “Since, like you said, it’s your fault that he’s grounded in the first place.”

Reaching into the bag, Liam throws another marshmallow, this time hitting Niall square in the eye.

—

Zayn is moping in his room.

He’s moping in his room because even Safaa and Waliyha have more going on tonight than he does. Waliyha’s sleeping over at a friend’s house, and Safaa has gone trick-or-treating with Yaser, her head swallowed up by a big, pointy witch hat.

It would be cute if Zayn weren’t so bitter.

His heart skips a beat whenever his phone buzzes, because every time it’s Liam, and every time he includes those cute little emoticons that make Zayn think of broad smiles and squinted eyes. 

God, he’s gone for him.

He spends most of the evening drinking coffee and sketching. It’s been a while since he opened his sketchpad, but the image of Liam’s eyes keeps popping into his head — warm and brown like the coffee he’s sipping, vulnerable despite Liam’s best efforts to veil his emotions.

That’s the key, he’s realized, to understanding him. His eyes always betray him, subtle enough that even Zayn can have a hard time seeing what’s going through his head.

So he draws two eyes, dark and warm, swallowed by the crinkle of a smile.

Another pair of eyes, wide and earnest, a squint like desperation. _It felt right with you_ , they say.

His phone buzzes. _wish you were here :(_

Zayn taps out a response, heart racing. _come over on your way home?_

After a tense couple of minutes, his phone vibrates again. _leaving in a bit :D_

He closes his sketchbook, sends a quick _see you soon x,_ and goes downstairs to sit out on the front step. It’s getting late now, and Safaa is pouting because Yaser is telling her that it’s bedtime. 

“I didn’t get to show Zayn all the candy I got though, Baba,” she whines.

“You can show me in the morning,” Zayn says as he walks through the living room, bending down to pluck the witch hat from her head.

“Hey!” 

He places the hat on his head, adjusting it and looking down at his little sister. “Bet it looks better on me,” he teases, ruffling her hair. She’s got an expression on her face that reminds him of their mother when she’s about to lose it, so he replaces the hat gently. “But I think it suits your personality more.”

“ _Zayn_ ,” his dad warns. He turns to Safaa, plucking her bag of candy away from her. “Do you mind putting this away while I tuck your sister into bed?”

Nodding, Zayn takes the candy and watches as his father and sister head upstairs. That’s something he’s always liked about his father; he very rarely tells his children to do something. Instead, he phrases it like a question, but it’s been implied throughout Zayn’s life that the only acceptable answer is ‘yes.’ _Do you mind putting this away? Can you help me get the groceries out of the car?_

He still appreciates that he never ordered them around like some of his friends’ parents did.

Zayn’s stashes the candy in a cabinet out of Safaa’s reach before he walks out the front door quietly, closing it with care so as not to make too much noise. It’s cold out tonight, and he’s desperate for something to do as he waits, so he plucks a cigarette from his pocket. He’s standing on the front step as he lights it, watching for Liam’s truck in the darkness. There are a few kids lingering on the road, older kids mostly, dressed up as Spiderman or vampires or pirates and wielding ridiculously large bags of candy. People around here seem determined to sugar the neighborhood kids up.

Headlights appear at the end of the street, two pinpricks in the darkness growing larger as the car approaches. He thinks it must be Liam, takes a drag from his cigarette to steady his breathing. As the car gets closer, the rumbling sound of a shitty old truck reaches his ears, and he can’t restrain the smile on his face.

Liam doesn’t pull into the driveway, instead parking across the street and climbing out of the truck, hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket. Zayn is still barefoot, hadn’t thought of putting shoes on, but his toes don’t seem to mind the cold pavement as he snuffs out the cigarette against the wall and meets Liam halfway, right at the end of the driveway. 

“Happy Halloween,” Liam breathes, cheeks rosy, and Zayn can’t tell if it’s from the cold or if he’s just blushing from nerves. Maybe it’s both. “I brought you something.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a heap of aluminum foil, and it’s warm when Zayn takes it. “It’s a s’more,” Liam clarifies.

“Thank you.” Zayn’s voice sounds small when he speaks, so he clears his throat. “Did you have fun at Niall’s?”

Liam shrugs. “Would’ve been more fun with you there, I think. Dunno how we got along so well before you joined our little group, those two are a pain in the ass.”

Beaming at that, Zayn steps forward to close the space between them. “You guys are best friends,” he points out. “That’d be the case even if I weren’t around.”

“Yeah. It’s just better when you’re there, too.” His eyes are hard to read in the darkness, but he reaches out and cradles Zayn’s cheek with one hand — _I never realized how big his hands are,_ Zayn thinks — before bringing their lips together.

It’s a short kiss, chaste even, a little rough since both of their lips are chapped by the cold autumn air. It reminds Zayn of taking a shot of vodka, a warm feeling rising in his chest as his head swims.

Liam pulls away just as the front light flickers on. “I think you’re getting a warning,” he whispers, lips still brushing against Zayn’s as he speaks.

Letting out an annoyed huff, Zayn leans forward for one last peck. “Happy Halloween,” he says. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Goodnight.”

Liam doesn’t turn back to go to his car, standing at the end of the driveway and watching as Zayn makes his way to the front step. With his hand on the doorknob, he turns to give the other boy one last look over his shoulder before entering the house, where Yaser is leaning against the kitchen counter.

“ _Beta,_ do I have to explicitly lay out what it means to be grounded? Typically, it doesn’t involve a late night rendezvous with the neighbors’ son.”

Heat rises to Zayn’s cheeks and he avoids his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he apologizes earnestly. “He was just bringing me a s’more.”

But when he looks up at his father’s expression, he sees softness.

“I think it’s time you went to bed,” he says. “But if you’re dating someone, standard protocol says that you’re meant to bring him over for supper sometime.”

“We haven’t been on a date yet,” Zayn protests. The thought of his entire family gushing over Liam, of his little sisters trying to embarrass him — no, the very idea is dreadful.

Yaser lets out a laugh. “Goodnight, Zayn.”

So Zayn trudges up to his room and eats his s’more in bed before dozing off, melted marshmallow stuck to his bottom lip as he falls into an easy slumber.


	10. Chapter 10

Liam’s alarm goes off early.

It’s Saturday, a week after Halloween, and he forgets, for a moment, why he’s waking up at seven o’clock in the morning.

But then his head starts to clear and he remembers, so he forces himself out of his warm bed and pads downstairs to let Loki out. He pours a bowl of kibble for the dog and a bowl of cereal for himself before letting the dog back inside, and he leans against the kitchen counter as he watches the dog eat while spooning sugary cereal into his own mouth.

When he’s finished eating, he pulls his phone out.

“Morning,” Zayn answers, voice raspy with sleep. Liam pictures him sticking his head out the window, a cigarette between his lips. His cheeks flush.

“Just making sure you’re awake,” Liam says. Loki ambles over and stares up at Liam expectantly, so leans down to he scratch behind his ears.

“Barely.”

“I’m gonna hop in the shower, but I should be over in, like, fifteen minutes.”

He hears Zayn yawn before saying, “Okay. See you, _Leeyum_.”

—

Zayn steps out of his house bundled up in a leather jacket, a scarf wrapped around his neck. His shoulders hunch against the cold wind, so Liam turns the heat up in the car.

“Thanks for taking me to therapy,” he says as he climbs into the passenger seat. His eyes look tired, but he smiles at Liam — that mischievous grin he has, the one that makes Liam’s pulse quicken.

“No problem,” Liam says. “You pick the music.”

Zayn lights up at that, immediately leaning forward to scan through the small selection of radio stations they have here. “When we get closer to the city, we’ll pick up better channels,” he comments.

Liam pulls out of the driveway, bobbing his head along to the pop song that’s playing. “Didn’t think this was your style.”

“Everything else is just commercials,” Zayn says defensively.

“There’s nothing wrong with liking Katy Perry,” Liam teases.

Zayn lets out a huff, but they sit in a comfortable silence as they make their way out of the neighborhood. Liam doesn’t travel out of town very often except for an occasional trip to the beach with his family, but he’s glad to finally spend some alone time with Zayn.

Over the past few days, they’ve been sneaking around.

Niall and Harry don’t know the full extent of what’s going on between them yet, which Liam is thankful for. It’s not that he is ashamed to be with Zayn — although he does wonder if this counts are being _together_ — but he worries that letting anyone else in on the secret will make it lose some of its value.

Besides, it’s still a very new thing, and there’s something to be said about sneaking in a quick kiss when no one else is looking; it’s exciting — a little scandalous, even. And Liam suspects that Zayn, despite what he said about not caring, is actually afraid of what people will think.

He’s asked a couple of times about the surprise date that Liam had mentioned, and Liam has consistently responded with a coy _if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?_ which usually shuts him up.

Smiling to himself, he chances a quick glance at Zayn when they stop at a red light, looking away before Zayn notices. The other boy doesn’t have a clue of what Liam has planned, so he makes a point of keeping a composed expression. “I’m excited to see where you grew up.”

Zayn tilts his head, fiddling with the knob of the radio as he changes to a rock station. “Why is that?”

Shrugging, Liam replies, “You’re bit of a mystery sometimes.”

Zayn snorts. “As if.”

“I just mean — I dunno, you’ve seen where I’ve lived for my whole life. I think it’ll be nice to see where you grew up. I feel like it’ll explain a lot about you.”

The ride doesn’t feel long. Somehow, three hours pass like mere moments, and they spend most of the time laughing and talking. It feels easy with Zayn, Liam realizes, in a way that it doesn’t feel with anyone else. He lets his guard down, makes silly jokes, anything to make him grin. 

Traffic grows more congested as they arrive downtown, tall buildings and pedestrians with crisp suits and cell phones pressed to their ears. The sky is a gloomy gray, and Zayn’s mood seems to reflect it as they park in a garage. It’s a few blocks away from the building where Zayn has therapy, but it’s the best option seeing as Liam doesn’t know how to parallel park.

Which Zayn doesn’t hesitate to tease him about, of course.

“It’s not that hard, I promise,” he says with a laugh.

“You don’t even have your license, how would you know?” Liam retorts, shifting the vehicle into park. He turns to look at Zayn just as he’s sticking his tongue out. “Very mature.”

Zayn goes so far as to blow a raspberry. “Come on, I’m gonna be late if we don’t get inside.”

He’s fidgety as they walk to the building, so Liam reaches out and grabs his hand, giving it a squeeze. When they arrive, Zayn goes up to the receptionist before taking a seat in the waiting room. Liam sits beside him, neither of them speaking.

Eventually, a woman steps out into the waiting room, eyes finding Zayn immediately. Her hair is entirely gray, and Zayn seems to recognize her.

“See you in an hour,” Zayn mutters to Liam.

Flashing him a reassuring smile, Liam nods and picks up an old magazine sitting on the table. “I’ll be here.” 

—

There are some things Zayn can’t talk about with Liam, as much as he wishes he could.

For one thing, he lives in constant fear — fear that Liam will get a glimpse of who he is, who he _really_ is, and that he won’t like it. Fear that his own sadness will seep from him like blood from an open cut, leaking and infecting those around him. He imagines how it might spread to Liam, rotting him layer by layer until it penetrates his heart, until it peels that easy smile from his face.

When he says as much, Dr. Shirani adjusts her glasses and looks at him curiously. “He knows about your mental illness. He even drove three hours with you this morning — on a Saturday — to take you to therapy. Why do you think he did that?”

Zayn doesn’t reply instantly, idly picking at a loose thread that hangs from his sweater. “I don’t know,” he murmurs.

“Do you think there’s a chance that you’re projecting your own fears and doubts onto him?”

He bites his lip. She’s good at making him think about these things, at making him second guess the negative voice in his head. “Maybe. Can we talk about something else?”

“What would you like to talk about?”

“Well…I’m working on college applications. I’m just — I’m nervous, you know? Everyone says it’s better in college, that you can be whoever you want…my sister Doniya always said that when she’d come home to visit. But now I’m starting to worry that when I go off to school…that it won’t be like that for me.”

After a long pause, Dr. Shirani says, “You have to learn to trust yourself, Zayn. If you really want to go to college — which I believe you do, from what we’ve discussed in the past — then you need to trust that you’re strong enough to make it through another depressive episode.”

“I tried to kill myself last time,” he says, his voice small. He takes a deep breath to steady himself, feeling tears forming in his eyes. “I don’t want to be that low again. I don’t want…” he trails off.

“That’s what we’ve been working toward. So that you can get to a place where, if you _do_ start to feel low again, you know how to keep from spiraling, and you know how to ask for help.”

“I don’t feel as compelled to hurt myself anymore. But I’m just scared that it won’t last. I’m scared…”

“What did you do the last time that you felt low?” Dr. Shirani asks.

Zayn thinks back to the first time he kissed Liam — how he couldn’t get out of bed afterward, how he couldn’t bring himself to eat or go to school. He’d shut down entirely in the face of something that stressed him out, but he hadn’t hurt himself. The thought had crossed his mind, but it went away just as quickly.

“I skipped school. I listened to music. I, um…I thought about hurting myself a couple of times.”

“But you didn’t.”

“No.”

“What stopped you?”

He takes a moment to bring himself back to the aftermath of the kiss, to the hopelessness he’d felt. “I thought of my parents. I thought of — I thought of my dad rushing me to the hospital. Um. I thought of how it felt when I finally came home again, with my sisters afraid to upset me…it was like everyone was walking on eggshells. I hated it. I felt like a freak. One night, when I couldn’t sleep — I went to the kitchen for a glass of water, and my parents were both there. They were talking about me, I could tell, because when I walked in they both stopped speaking and they just…looked at me. And my mom wrapped her arms around me and she held me for what felt like hours, and she was crying. I didn’t want to make her cry again. I didn’t ever want to make her feel that way again.”

Dr. Shirani nods. “You have people in your life who love you and care about you. It’s easy to feel like you’re alone sometimes. But it seems like you’ve gotten better at remembering that that isn’t the case.”

He chews his bottom lip as he considers this. “Yeah. You’re right.”

—

When they step outside again, it’s snowing. They’re both bundled up, but the snowflakes seem especially cold as they land and melt on Zayn’s face. He feels a certain heaviness in his heart; there are times when therapy leaves him feeling relieved, like he’s happy to get everything off his chest. But it’s hard to relive some of those low moments, and he thinks Liam can sense that, because they walk together in silence.

“What if I told you I had a surprise for you?” Liam finally says.

Zayn looks over at Liam, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

“Like, a date sort of thing. Because I’m sort of tired of us not _really_ dating.” He reaches out for Zayn’s hand as he says that, their gloved fingers intertwining.

“A date sort of thing?”

“A date. Just a few blocks away, if you don’t mind walking in the snow.”

And of course Zayn doesn’t mind. Curiosity has started to overtake the initial post-therapy sadness he’s been feeling, and he welcomes that. “Where, exactly, are we going?”

“You’ll know when we get there.” 

He’s still moping a bit, zoning out and letting Liam take the lead until they stop in front of a building. Zayn looks up and recognizes it immediately, a smile spreading across his face. “How’d you know about this place?” 

Liam laughs in response. “Spoke to Louis and asked him what you might miss most about living here. Do you feel up to grabbing lunch before we get back on the road?”

Zayn’s stomach rumbles before he can even answer, so Liam laughs again and pulls him inside.

—

Liam feels like he’s discovering a part of Zayn that he hasn’t seen before when they step into the Chinese restaurant. It’s small, its decorations outdated, but it’s crowded with people. A sign hanging at the front says _please wait to be seated._

Zayn drops his hand just then, and a boy who looks to be around the same age as them approaches the host stand. This seems to make Zayn uncomfortable, Liam notices, watching as he licks his lips nervously and ducks his head to avoids making eye contact.

Liam opens his mouth to greet the boy once he reaches the stand, but he’s cut off before he gets a chance to do so.

“Zayn?”

Freezing in place, Zayn licks his lips again. “Um. Hey.”

“Haven’t seen you in a while. Is it true that you moved?”

“Um. Yep.”

They look at each other for a moment before the host grabs two menus and jerks his head toward a nearby table. “You guys can follow me,” he says, leading them over to the booth. Liam tries to catch Zayn’s eye, curious as to why the interaction is so awkward, but he looks directly ahead until they’re seated and the host is gone.

“Who was that?” Liam asks finally.

“An old classmate of mine. We weren’t friends or anything like that, we just, uh…sat next to each other a lot. His last name is Martin, so whenever we had a seating chart…” he trails off. “Sorry. It’s just, uh. I didn’t expect to see anyone from my old school here.”

Liam touches Zayn’s knee under the table, giving it a squeeze. “Do you want to leave?”

“No. I want to eat some good fucking Chinese food, because that one sad place by our neighborhood is pretty horrendous.”

“It’s not _that_ bad!” Liam chuckles.

“Yeah, well, see if you say that after this place. I highly recommend the kung pao chicken, it’s really spicy.” Zayn holds the menu up and starts glancing over his options, so Liam follows suit.

“What are your plans for the rest of the day?” Liam asks.

“Oh, you know. College applications, homework. Very exciting day ahead of me.”

Liam presses his lips together, shifting in his seat. If he could go the rest of his life without hearing that stupid word — _college_ — he could die happy. 

Because his parents have started asking about it, telling him to apply to scholarships. His sisters have been pressuring him. His friends won’t stop fucking talking about it. And now he’s got to watch the boy he’s fallen for apply to school and then walk away forever.

He always knew that Zayn had every intention of leaving town the moment he got a chance, but now it’s feeling more real than it did at Sophia’s party back in September.

“Sounds like it,” he answers finally, just as the waitress comes to take their orders.

Zayn starts to get chatty once they get their food and start eating, and Liam is more than pleased to lose himself in the conversation. He asks Zayn all about his favorite places here, trying his best to focus on the present. Because they’re together _now_ , and that’s what matters. They’re together now, and the rest of their senior year stretches out ahead of them.

Still, it doesn’t make that little voice in the back of his head go away.

They’ve finished eating, and Liam is about to ask if Zayn wants to head out just as he notices the other boy freezing up in his seat. His eyes are focused on something just over Liam’s shoulder, and he sucks in a deep breath.

Liam looks over his shoulder and notices a tall, handsome boy walking into the restaurant. He’s got light hair and an athletic build; he’s even wearing one of those letterman jackets, and he’s surrounded by three other boys wearing football jerseys.

“Who’s that?” Liam asks, but he thinks he knows already.

And it takes Zayn a moment to answer, like the name is stuck in his throat, but he finally opens his mouth and says, “The boy from my old school, the one I told you about. Dylan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger. I'll update soon :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and happy holidays to all! I figured I'd post this next chapter as a little holiday gift from me to you. Probably won't be updating again until mid-January!

Zayn’s first reaction is that he wants to get up and leave, but they’ve still got to pay the bill.

For a moment, he thinks that maybe he can hide, but Dylan’s eyes seem to find his immediately.

He is paralyzed in his seat as he watches Dylan and his friends walk over to a table and sit down, and as much as he tries to keep from attracting too much attention, he can feel Dylan’s eyes on him. He realizes that he’s breathing too fast just as the room starts spinning.

“Are you okay? We’ll leave, let me just get the check.”

Zayn doesn’t answer. Liam’s voice feels miles away, like he’s hearing it from the other side of a tunnel. “I need some fresh air,” he says finally, pushing himself to stand up. He pulls a few bills out of his wallet and starts to set them on the table, but Liam waves his hand away, taking out his own money. Normally, Zayn would insist to pay for his own meal, but he has a hard time finding the words, and all he can manage is, “I’ll be right back, yeah?”

He stares at the floor as he pushes the door open and steps into the snow, his coat abandoned at the booth. As soon as the cold air hits his face, his mind starts to function a little more easily. Pulling a cigarette out, he starts to smoke, hands shaking as he fumbles with the lighter.

It’s easier to breathe like this. He knows it doesn’t make much sense, he knows he’s filling his lungs with tar and smoke and everything else that’s bad for you. He knows it’ll kill him one day — _if I’m lucky_ _—_ but it still feels easier to inhale smoke than it does to inhale air.

Maybe that makes sense for people like him, people that are fucked up.

“Zayn?”

He spins around when he hears his name, suddenly unable to breathe again when he sees that it’s Dylan.

And he’s speechless, of course, even after months of going over this in his head, thinking of what he would say if he ever came face-to-face with the asshole who drove him to suicide.

_Fuck you._

_You have some nerve._

And something else, something softer and naive and stupid. _I miss you._

Because he did. A part of him always missed the way they were together, the way they carved out a space of their own whenever they were alone. The way Dylan would call him by a million different pet names — _sweetheart_ and _baby_ and _Z_ — and the way they sounded on his tongue, sweet and tinged with the baritone of a boy who went through puberty a little faster than the rest of them. Dylan always seemed dangerous compared to Zayn, muscular and tall, sharp angles and piercing eyes, a sneer that cut across his face. Some of it would melt away when it was just the two of them, their size difference making Zayn feel secure and protected.

He still feels small, but this time he’s just afraid.

“Look, I know that I’m probably the last person you want to talk to —”

But Dylan is interrupted as the door of the restaurant swings open. “Yeah, you most definitely are.”

Liam stands there, holding Zayn’s coat and glaring at Dylan.

For a moment, Zayn feels like he’s in the middle of one of those teen movies, like both of the boys he’s loved are going to start fighting, like Liam is defending his honor.

“Is this your boyfriend?” Dylan asks, expression unreadable.

“What’s it to you?” Zayn bites back. He takes his coat from Liam and shrugs into it, noticing the way that Liam has angled himself between the two boys — a protective stance. It would be sexy if Zayn weren’t too busy freaking the fuck out.

Dylan’s eyes are wide when he looks at Zayn, his voice shaking when he speaks. “I just — I just wanted to apologize.”

This takes Zayn by surprise, his eyebrows shooting up. “What?”

“I wanted to apologize. I’m — I’m still not out to anyone.” He pauses, looking down. “I was a coward last year, Zayn. You know that. I’m still a coward. Even now, even after everything that happened with you…and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry, I — I don’t think there’s anything I can say that will excuse what I did.”

“No,” Zayn agrees. “There isn’t.”

“But I want you to know that I…I really regret it. I regret all of it. And you deserve someone who isn’t ashamed or afraid to show you off.”

Zayn stands there without responding, taking it all in. His head is spinning again.

“You’re right,” Liam says finally, reaching out to take Zayn’s hand. “He does.”

And it feels like a scene from a movie again, but Zayn doesn’t seem to know his lines. “Yeah. I do.”

Dylan nods at that, biting his bottom lip. “Okay. I just, um. I wanted you to know that, is all.”

He turns to step back into the restaurant, and Zayn doesn’t move until Liam tugs gently at his hand.

“It’s getting cold,” he says.

Zayn nods. “Yeah.”

“Let’s head back to the car?”

He nods again. “Okay.”

—

Liam starts the car up and blasts the heat, letting Zayn sit in the warmth of the truck while he puts snow chains on his tires. It hasn’t been snowing for very long, but he knows that some of the rural roads they’ll be taking have a tendency to get slick even after a light snowfall.

When he finishes, he takes his seat in the truck and looks over at Zayn, who’s sitting with his eyes closed. His breathing is erratic, so Liam knows he isn’t asleep, but he doesn’t want to make him talk.

Instead, he starts the car up. It roars to life, and soon they’re driving out of the city, tall buildings shrinking smaller in his rearview mirror. Somewhere, the boy from the restaurant and Dylan and Louis are all there, all three of them people from Zayn’s past, from his old life.

He thinks of how badly he wanted to hurt Dylan.

It scares him, but after he’d paid for their food, that was the first thought on his mind. He was shaking, his vision blurred with rage.

Because when he saw Dylan, all he thought of were the scars he’d accidentally pointed out on Zayn’s arm. He thinks of Zayn, alone and afraid, coming home from school one day and deciding that he wanted to take his own life, and he wonders how Dylan lives with that guilt.

His hands tighten on the steering wheel, knuckles white. “You wanna put on some music?” he asks.

Zayn opens his eyes, turns to look at Liam, but he doesn’t answer.

So Liam reaches out and fiddles with the radio, eventually settling on a rap station. “You were right. There’s a better selection of radio stations out here.”

They’re both quiet as they get on the highway, until Zayn finally says something.

“Thank you.”

Liam’s eyebrows furrow at that. “For what?”

“You stood up for me,” he says. “No one’s ever really done that before. I mean, you know, Louis has a big mouth, but he’s not as scary as he likes to think, and I never really told him the full extent of it, so—”

Shrugging, Liam responds, “I didn’t do anything.”

“I just, um. I appreciate it.” He leans over and pecks Liam on the cheek. “I appreciate you.”

And Liam laughs, takes a hand off the steering wheel to take Zayn’s hand in his own, bringing it to his lips before saying, “Likewise.”

—

The mood changes after that.

They don’t speak much during the drive, but it still feels intimate.

Liam’s right hand is resting on Zayn’s knee, and he leans back in his seat as he drives with the other. At one point, Zayn scolds him for it, reminds him that he’s supposed to keep both hands on the wheel, but he’s smiling when he says it.

They’re about halfway home when Liam notices that the gas tank is almost empty. “We’re gonna have to make a quick pit stop.”

“Okay.”

They pull up to a small gas station, and Zayn joins Liam as he climbs out of the truck to go inside and pay.

The store is dimly lit and a little grubby, but Liam still grabs a soda, a packet of M&Ms, and a tube of lip balm. He watches as Zayn picks out a chocolate bar, and they head over to the counter together.

The gas station employee rings up Liam’s candy and soda and asks if he needs anything else, but Zayn’s chocolate bar is still on the counter.

“Can you ring up the chocolate bar too?” Liam asks, confused. He thought it was clear that they were buying everything together.

The employee, a man who looks to be in his early twenties, rolls his eyes before ringing up the chocolate bar. “Anything else?”

Liam takes out a couple bills. “The rest is for gas. Pump number one.”

The cashier takes the money and hands Liam a receipt, and the two of them walk back out to the truck.

Zayn sits in the passenger seat, seemingly unbothered by the interaction, as Liam proceeds to pump gas into the truck. Something about it rubs him the wrong way, especially when he thinks back to what happened at the restaurant.

He voices this concern to Zayn once he slides back into his seat.

“How come everyone assumes we’re paying for our shit separately?” he asks. “Back in the restaurant, when you were outside with Dylan…the waitress came back with two checks. Like, you know how they usually ask if you want it together or separate? She just assumed we were paying separately and handed me two checks when I asked to pay. And then that guy in there, he seemed annoyed that I was paying for your candy…”

His hand hovers over the key in the ignition, but he doesn’t turn it.

“Because they don’t think we’re together,” Zayn answers, his tone casual. “It’s just like, you know…people see two guys eating a meal together and they think they’re just friends. They don’t assume we’re on a date together, you know? And, um, you didn’t have to buy the chocolate bar. Or lunch, actually.”

Liam can’t help but feel annoyed that Zayn is entirely too blasé about this. “No one ever assumed me and Sophia were just friends. They just brought out one check whenever we’d go on a date together, they hardly ever asked.”

“That’s because you were with a girl. It was easy for them to see that it was a date.”

Liam blinks at that.

It seems so obvious when Zayn says it.

“Come on, don’t let it get you all bummed out. That’s just how things are, isn’t it?” Zayn rifles through the convenience store bag. “Ooh, lip balm. Planning on doing a lot of kissing, Li?” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively before taking out his chocolate bar.

And it makes Liam smile, but he still can’t shake the sinking feeling in his stomach.

—

When they finally get back to Zayn’s house, their street is covered in snow. Liam pulls up to Zayn’s house without going into the driveway, putting the truck in park and cutting off the engine.

“Hold on,” Liam says. “Don’t get out yet.”

He climbs out of the car and trudges through the snow to the passenger door, watching as Zayn’s expression shifts from confusion to amusement. Opening the door, he holds out his hands for Zayn.

“You’re a dork,” Zayn giggles. His nose scrunches up when he laughs, and he reaches out to take Liam’s hands despite his teasing. He steps out of the truck, using his hip to close the door behind him, and Liam pulls him closer.

Zayn looks up at Liam through dark eyelashes and Liam reaches out, using a thumb to brush a snowflake from the corner of his eye. He leans forward for a long kiss, pressing Zayn up against the car door. It’s clumsy and cold in the snow, but their lips move together gently. For a moment, everything is this — still and cold, warmth caught between them, heartbeats and fragile breaths — and when they finally pull apart, Liam’s got a crooked grin on his face.

“So,” he says quietly, his heart thumping loudly in his ears. “Are we dating now?”

Zayn returns his grin. “We’ve been on a date, so I guess it’s inevitable.”

Liam kisses him again, thinks he could probably kiss him for a few more hours if it weren’t so fucking cold outside. They finally part ways, Zayn walking to his front door and Liam starting up his truck, a thumb brushing over his chapped lips, the sensation of Zayn’s mouth still fresh.

—

Liam’s stomach flutters as he lies in bed, replaying the memories of the day — a bully, a boyfriend, a kiss, a kiss, a kiss. And his cheeks hurt from smiling, but he can’t stop, keeps seeing Zayn’s cheeky grin.

His mom calls him down for dinner, and he floats down the stairs dreamily, spends the entire meal itching to check his phone, wanting to see if he’s gotten a text message from Zayn. It’s equal parts horrible and freeing, this feeling of being so completely lost in another person, in letting his guard down, in forgetting what it’s like to have a broken heart.

He doesn’t think Zayn could ever break his heart, doesn’t think he has it in him. Someone who’s experienced so much pain can’t spread it in good conscience, and Zayn has a good conscience.

He hopes.

Because isn’t that the hard part, the scary part? You can never know someone fully. You can dig deep into their heart and pull out all the good, see it on display before you — but there’s always something hidden. _Humans_ , he thinks, _are incredibly complex creatures._ And there are parts of him that he keeps down deep — the ugly parts, the parts he’s ashamed of, the parts he hopes Zayn never has to see.

“Liam?”

He looks up at his father, whose eyebrows are raised. “Sorry, what?”

“How was your day?”

“Oh.” Liam takes a bite of rice, chewing thoughtfully. Tonight they’ve gotten Chinese food, and Liam keeps thinking how shitty it is compared to Zayn’s favorite restaurant in the city. “Good.”

“Not very talkative tonight, are you?” Karen Payne asks. “You went into the city today with your friend?”

“Yeah! Sorry, just a bit tired from all the driving, is all.”

“Well, you seem like you’re in a good mood.”

“I am,” Liam says hastily.

“What did you get up to out there, anyway?” Geoff’s eyebrows are still raised quizzically. He looks at Liam like he expects an explanation — it’s not accusatory, but it’s not often that his son sits at the dinner table grinning like a fool.

“Um…hung out a bit. Zayn had a, uh…doctor’s appointment out there, you know, so I offered to drive him since I’ve never visited the area before. And then we went to get some lunch. Nothing too exciting, but it was nice to spend time with him.” He thinks he’s shown his hand too much with that last bit, feels a blush rising to his cheeks.

“You should invite him over for dinner sometime,” Karen chimes in. “I feel like we’ve heard so much about Zayn, but we’ve barely seen him. I’ll tell you what, though, his parents are lovely. I brought them a casserole when they first arrived, and Trisha invited me inside for coffee. And their little girls, they’re adorable.”

“Yeah,” Liam agrees.

“And it’s just plain rude for you to have eaten at their house without ever inviting Zayn over to ours.”

“Right.”

“So, anyway, tell Zayn he can come over next Sunday, all right? And ask him what he likes to eat.”

“I don’t think he’s picky, Mom. Just no pork.”

She glances at him, a knowing look. Liam thinks sometimes that his mother has the ability to read minds, because the smile on her face suggests that she knows more than Liam has admitted.

When they’ve finished their meal, Liam helps his parents to clean up. It’s a routine of theirs — clean up together, wash the dishes together, put away the leftovers together. It used to be a much louder affair, back when his sisters still lived with them. There was a lot of laughter then, and sometimes a lot of fighting, but it always felt warm. It always felt like home.

He thinks that’s what this place represents to him, that maybe someone like Zayn or Louis will drive through this town and see nosy neighbors and large stretches of empty land. But Liam sees home, and he sees his family, and he sees years of laughter and love and enough space for him to fit into.

When he thinks back to the city — tall buildings and busy people — he thinks it’s too small, too tight, too constricting. He thinks the skyscrapers and traffic could swallow him whole, that he’d have to carve out a place and fit around everything else. He looks at someone like Dylan and wonders if the space he’s grown up in is the reason for his cold heart. _Maybe if he’d had a little grass to play in, a river to swim in, a couple of trees to climb — maybe he would’ve been a happier person._

—

“Do Harry and Niall know?” Zayn asks. “About us, I mean?”

Liam shakes his head. “Do you want them to?”

They’re sitting in the truck again, pulling into the school parking lot. Zayn takes a sip of his coffee, considering this for a moment. If Harry and Niall know about them, then this suddenly becomes much more than it is now.

Because even though they’ve said they’re dating, he thinks back to what Dylan said: _And you deserve someone who isn’t ashamed or afraid to show you off._

Zayn knows that he deserves that, knows that Liam deserves the same, and he knows that Liam is unafraid of the repercussions. He wants to be brave for Liam.

“Yes,” he says finally. “I think I do.”

Liam’s grinning widely. “Perfect. Let’s tell them together, then? After school?”

Zayn takes a deep breath. “Yeah. Okay.”

Liam reaches out and squeezes Zayn’s hand. “They’ll be happy to hear it, you know.”

Zayn doesn’t answer, but he bites his bottom lip and nods.

—

The four of them are walking to the parking lot. It’s clearing out now, most of the students already on buses or driving off in their cars.

Liam’s heart is pounding as he looks from Zayn to Harry to Niall.

He wants nothing more than to be honest with his best friends about this new beginning, this new relationship. _They deserve to know_ , he thinks. And he wants Zayn to see that a relationship doesn’t have to be a secret, that it can be a source of pride.

So it’s easy, really, for him to lean over and take Zayn’s hand in his own. He clears his throat loudly to capture Niall and Harry’s attention, and they drop their conversation immediately to raise their eyebrows in approval.

“Fucking finally,” Harry sighs.

“Don’t fuck it up,” Niall warns, and Liam is unsure if he’s speaking to him or to Zayn.

And Zayn glances over at him, and he’s beaming, and Liam wishes he could save that smile and tuck it into his back pocket, wishes that he could keep it forever.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I'm back with an update! Thanks for being patient with me <3 I think we've got about eight more chapters left, depending on how I divide up the rest of the story. The end is in sight and I'm really excited to share more of this fic with you!

_Liam doesn’t half-ass anything._

One of his friends had said it once — Harry or Niall, he couldn’t remember which, since it’d been years ago.

And it was true. He’d never half-assed anything; he worked hard in school, he trained hard in soccer, he made his parents proud when he could. He made his friends’ parents love him and he made his teachers love him, and once he had made Sophia love him too, and he’d loved her back, and it was never half-assed.

So now, here he is again — in another relationship, in a relationship he didn’t see coming, and even in his head he refuses to half-ass it. In his head, he lets himself fantasize, lets himself indulge, pictures himself driving his truck for hours just to visit Zayn once he leaves for school. He pictures himself wrapped up around the other boy on a cramped bed, in a dorm room the size of a closet, imagines himself driving him home for Christmas break and summer vacation. He even permits himself to indulge in a fantasy so far-fetched it makes him blush, even though he’s alone in his room:

Liam and Zayn and a puppy and an apartment in the city — _in the city_ , he thinks, _because that would make Zayn happy._

His alarm goes off. He’s been awake for an hour already, lying in bed and debating whether he wants to go for a run or continue to daydream about Zayn.

And he’d chosen to daydream, because Liam doesn’t half-ass anything.

—

“You should come over for dinner tonight,” Liam suggests between good morning kisses.

Zayn kisses him again. “To your house?”

Biting his lip, Liam nods. “If you want to.” He doesn’t add that it would mean a lot to him, or that his parents would love Zayn. They would, they would love anybody that made Liam happy, and he’s beginning to think that Zayn might make him _too_ happy — goofy, even, or over-the-moon.

“Yeah,” Zayn responds after a pause. “Yeah, okay.” He swallows. “I’ll just come over after school, I guess?”

“Perfect,” Liam says, beaming.

—

“So you haven’t met his parents yet?” Perrie asks.

Zayn buries his head into his locker, pretending to busy himself looking for something. “Ugh.”

“That’s a no?”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Zayn repeats.

“Right, then. Well, don’t be so nervous.”

Zayn pulls his head out of his locker and slams the door shut. “That’s _such_ helpful advice, Perrie.”

She crosses her arm and cocks her hip, raising an eyebrow at him. “The attitude is not cute.”

Immediately reminded of his mother, Zayn sighs. “Sorry. I’m just — I’m really stressed out about it. What if they don’t like me? And they don’t even know that Liam and I are, like, _together_ , so even if they do like me, what if they figure out that I’m dating Liam and then suddenly they _don’t_ like me?”

“They’ll like you,” Perrie insists. “Look, the Paynes are really kind. Everyone in town loves them, and they love everyone else. I promise they’ll like you. Besides, they liked Sophia just fine, and she can be kind of…well, annoying.”

“Don’t mention her, please. I can’t think about how disappointed his parents will be if they ever find out that Liam is with me after all that time with Sophia — don’t look at me like that, I’ll explain. With Sophia, their son gets the wonderful protection of being verifiably _straight_ , meaning no one will ever treat him like shit just because of who he’s dating, right? With me, they’re going to be thinking of him being treated differently. And they’re going to worry about grandkids. That’s a given.” Zayn sighs again. It’s hopeless, he realizes.

“Gay couples can adopt kids, and they have two straight daughters anyway, and you’re only seventeen years old so _maybe_ it’s a little early to worry about that.” She grabs Zayn by the shoulders. “Take a deep breath. _Relax_. They’re just people. You can’t control whether or not they will like you or how they would feel about your relationship with their son. All you can do is just…be yourself, and smile a lot, and hope for the best. Understand?”

Zayn takes a deep breath. “Okay.”

He goes through the rest of the day repeating her advice in his head like a mantra, and when he climbs into Liam’s truck at the end of the day, he does his best not to worry.

—

After school, they head over to Liam’s house.

Just like the last time he was there, Zayn feels like he might throw up at any moment, but he does his best to suppress the urge as they sit side-by-side on Liam’s bed. He watches as Liam pulls out a couple chocolate kisses, popping one into his mouth and offering the other to Zayn.

“Thanks.” Taking the chocolate, Zayn opens his laptop, pulling up a document as Liam busies himself with a Spanish assignment.

It is difficult to focus, of course, when Liam is sitting beside him.

He stares at the screen in front of him, trying to summon the right words, but the only thing on his mind is _Liam._

In an attempt to be subtle, he risks a quick glance.

Liam is focusing, eyebrows furrowed, and he doesn’t seem to notice Zayn’s eyes on him, so Zayn keeps looking, and soon the glance is not quick at all.

“Working hard?” Liam asks, eyes locking with Zayn’s, an impossibly wide grin on his face.

“Trying to,” Zayn admits, cheeks flushing. “Failing miserably. It’s hard, you know, with a cute boy next to me.”

Liam scoots closer to Zayn, peering over at his computer screen. “What are you supposed to be working on?”

“College essay.” He lets out a sigh. “I’ve been struggling with it for weeks now.”

“Oh.”

The mood shifts immediately.

“Why do you get so quiet whenever we talk about college applications?”

Pausing for a moment, Liam turns back to his book. “I don’t.”

“Really? Because right now you’re doing an excellent impression of someone who gets quiet whenever we talk about college applications.”

Liam leans away. “Please just drop it, will you?” he pleads.

“Sorry,” Zayn mutters, but he closes his laptop and turns to Liam. “I just mean…if you need help or something, I can help you.”

“I don’t need help.”

“Well, have you started your applications yet?”

“Can you _stop interrogating me_ , please?” Liam pushes himself up off the bed and crosses the room, searching for a distraction.

And Zayn obliges this time.

—

Liam’s mood is dampened from the college conversation, so he does his best to shake it from his mind. He goes out of his way to make sure that he seems _fine_ , smiles and laughs and tells jokes, cuddles up next to Zayn as they work.

The hours pass by. It’s almost easy to pretend that nothing is wrong.

He hears his mother enter the house downstairs, shortly followed by his father, and soon the scent of dinner is wafting up to Liam’s room. His stomach growls loudly, which causes Zayn to let out a laugh.

“Ready to go down?” Liam asks, elbowing him gently. 

Zayn eyes him for a moment and Liam can tell that he’s still thinking about their conversation earlier.

“Yeah,” he says.

When Zayn pushes himself off the bed, he stretches his arms up toward the ceiling, a thin strip of skin visible above the waistband of his jeans. Liam tries his best not to stare, stepping closer to the other boy and placing a hand on the small of his back. “It’s going to be fine,” he murmurs, rubbing a small circle on Zayn’s back.

Just then, his mother’s voice calls to them from downstairs, so Liam pulls back, takes Zayn’s hand, and leads him to dinner. He drops his hand just before they step into the dining room, shooting an apologetic look in Zayn’s direction. He isn’t sure what he’s sorry for — hiding the relationship from his parents, or not being brave enough to be honest, or snapping earlier.

Zayn’s face is screwed up with worry, eyebrows furrowed, bottom lip clenched between his teeth.

And although he would never admit it, Liam is a little worried too, so it comes as a massive relief when his dad walks into the room with an easy smile on his face. He’s holding a bowl of salad and a stack of plates.

“You must be Zayn,” Geoff says. He sets the bowl down and shakes Zayn’s hand.

“Er, yes. Nice to meet you, Mr. Payne. Do you and Mrs. Payne need help setting the table?”

“Geoff and Karen,” Liam’s dad corrects. “And you can have a seat. You’re a guest in our home, we won’t make you do any chores…at least not until you loiter here as much as Liam’s other friends.”

Zayn laughs at that, and even as he sits down, some of his nervousness seems to dissipate.

—

Dinner is surprisingly easy.

Geoff and Karen seem to like Zayn. He makes sure to laugh at their jokes, and he helps to clean the kitchen once they finish their meal — despite their insistence that he’s a guest and doesn’t need to worry about it.

He can’t help it, though. He wants to make the best impression he can on them, suddenly self-conscious of the tattoos that peek out of his long sleeves. Even if this isn’t a traditional ‘meet the parents’ style dinner, Zayn is on his best behavior the entire time, up until the very last fork has been put away.

“Thank you for helping us, Zayn. You really didn’t have to,” Karen says, patting his cheek lightly. “Liam, I like this one. You should bring him over more often.”

Zayn’s eyes meet his over her shoulder as Liam replies, “Will do.”

Liam offers to walk Zayn home, and the two of them set out into the cold night air in silence.

“Thank you,” Liam says quietly, knocking Zayn’s shoulder with his own.

“Thank you for inviting me,” Zayn responds. His voice is soft, still timid. He’s still a bit unsure of himself, of what his role should be in the future, of how often he’ll be allowed to glimpse this part of Liam’s life — his parents, his family, his home.

“Any time.”

They walk in silence until they’re only a few feet from Zayn’s driveway, and Liam stops dead in his tracks. Zayn almost doesn’t notice until he’s already passed him, and he turns around with a question in his eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Liam lets out a deep breath. “The college thing…”

Zayn feels his heart sink, wondering if another argument is about to follow. “I’m sorry for prying, I just—”

“You were trying to help.” Liam pauses before continuing. “Would you dump me if I told you I can’t go to college?”

“Of course not,” Zayn answers instantly. It’s a silly question; he can’t think of anything that would make him dump Liam. “But I would ask why you can’t go.”

“Um. Money, mostly.”

“There are scholarships. And loans. I mean, my older sister’s got a couple thousand dollars worth of grants, and with the scholarship she got at her school she didn’t even need to take out any loans—”

“I’m not getting a scholarship, Zayn. I don’t have the grades for it.”

“There are scholarships for everything if you look hard enough, I’ve got a couple of books I can loan you—”

Letting out a frustrated noise, Liam shakes his head. “No. I can’t afford it, I don’t have the grades for it, and I don’t want to get my hopes up thinking that I can go to some fancy school to study…I dunno, Plato and Socrates, just so that I can get that rejection letter in the mail.”

And Zayn wants to argue with him about that, wants to grab him by the shoulders and tell him how ridiculous he’s being, but he knows that will only make things worse. 

So he tries a different approach.

“Liam,” he says softly, cupping his cheek. “Listen to me. I think you’re limiting yourself. I think…I think you’re afraid to leave behind a town that you love, a place that’s familiar to you. I think you fear change, and this whole thing about not having the grades for college is just an excuse so that you can pretend otherwise. Just like with Sophia—”

“It’s not the same as Sophia.”

A pause.

“Okay.” Zayn nods. “I’m sorry for bringing her up. I just mean—” 

Liam cuts him off with a kiss, but Zayn pulls back instantly.

“I wasn’t finished speaking, Liam.”

“Well, I didn’t bring this up so that we could fight about it, okay? I don’t want to fight. I just want…I just want you to know why I’m so quiet when you and Harry and Niall talk about going off to school next year.”

There’s another pause.

“Okay,” Zayn says again. “I won’t bug you about it anymore, I guess.”

“Good. Thank you.” Liam leans in for another kiss, this time letting Zayn close the gap between them.

“Goodnight,” Zayn says as he pulls away.

“Night. See you tomorrow.”

And Zayn walks back into the house, his spirit dampened, wondering if there’s anything he can do to change Liam’s mind.

—

Liam chooses to go for a run the next morning, trying his best to forget the college talk. He’s been hearing this shit from his parents, from his sisters, and now from Zayn. It’s too much, and a part of him just wants to scream at them. _I’m not like you_ , he thinks. _I’m not meant to go off to some fancy school._

He almost says as much when Zayn climbs into his truck that morning and slides him a thick manila envelope. “Don’t open this until you get home after school, okay?”

He looks especially tired this morning, the circles under his eyes darker and more pronounced than usual, and Liam opens his mouth to protest before thinking better of it. He’s almost certain it has something to do with their conversation the night before — he knew Zayn wouldn’t drop it, almost regrets admitting the truth to him.

“Okay,” Liam says, accepting the envelope. “But I’m not —”

“Look, Liam. I worked on that all night. It’s just some information that I found that I think you could use. I’m not going to tell you what you should or shouldn’t do, but if you want to go to college, then I think you owe it to yourself to at least _try_ finding a way to pay for it.”

When Liam doesn’t answer, Zayn speaks again. “At least take a look at it so my all nighter wasn’t completely pointless, babe.”

And maybe it’s the casual use of that pet name that gets to him, but Liam accepts the envelope, lets it rest on his lap as they ride to school, and refuses to get his hopes up.

—

_I’m applying to this scholarship, too._

Liam stares down at the papers in front of him. They’re scattered on the kitchen table, his parents having gone to bed hours ago. Zayn has left him little yellow sticky notes on every page — _you need an essay for this one, this one includes room and board, you have to maintain a 3.5 GPA for this scholarship —_ and it’s overwhelming, it’s too much. 

He considers shoving the papers back into the envelope, tossing it aside, and going to bed.

But there’s that one sticky note staring up at him. _I’m applying to this program, too._

Liam pulls the sticky note off the paper.

It’s stupid how hopeful he gets, his heart fluttering in his chest as he imagines himself packing up boxes, throwing them into his truck, and driving away. But he wouldn’t just be driving _away_ from here. He’d be driving _toward_ something — toward a new life, toward his future, toward Zayn.

He reads the requirements. His GPA meets the minimum, and his test scores are fine, too. The essay will be the hardest part, but maybe he can stay after school for an hour or two with his English teacher for some help…

Maybe he could actually do this.

His eyes dart down to the bottom of the page, where the school has listed the amount of students it accepts into the scholarship program every year.

Twenty students. 

They accept twenty students, and if Zayn’s applying, Liam thinks that means there’s only nineteen slots left.

He’s about to give up and go to bed when he sees another sticky note on the following page:

_Please?_

He wants to roll his eyes. He wants to be angry or annoyed at Zayn for meddling in something that isn’t his business, he wants to let Zayn see how hopeless any of this is, how _impossible_ it would be for both of them to get accepted into this program. Two boys from the same town, the same school, the same neighborhood. Liam doesn’t know much about college admissions, but he thinks he’s heard that they look for diversity, that they don’t want to pack their schools with too many kids from the same place or the same background.

It’s hopeless, he thinks, but as he packs the papers back into the envelope, he keeps this one separate from the rest. He folds it in half and tucks it into the pocket of his jeans, stifling a yawn as he walks back upstairs to go to bed.

Before drifting off to sleep, he sends a text message, just a single word:

_okay._


End file.
